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THE GOLD-STEALERS 

















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OVER AND OVER THEY TUMBLED 


10 


THE GOLD-STEALERS 


A STORY OF WADDY 


BY ^ 

EDWARD DYSON 

Author of * Rhymes from the Mines* and ‘Below and On Top* 


LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO. 

91 AND 93 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK 
LONDON AND BOMBAY 


1901 


1P¥51^T •• ^ f* V or 

Two Conta htob -<5-r> 

NOV. ta W! 

OOPVRJOHT K^•'S 

CLASS (Xy XXc >*0* 

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Copyright, 1901, 

BY 

EDWARD DYSON. 


All rights reserved. 


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ROBERT DRUMMOND, PRINTER, NEW YORK 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 


Over and Over they Tumbled Frontispiece 

Are you Thinking ? ’’ Whispered the Girl. . . To face page 75 ^ 

Standing Erect in her Vehicle, roundly 
Abused the Township from End to End... 118 

He Lay like a Corpse in the Black Water “ 179 ^ 

He Snatched his Gun from a Corner and 

Stepped out ‘‘ ** 217 

Crushed by her Misery into an Attitude of 

Profound Despair “ 249 

Scratched at the Hard Flooring-boards with 

HIS Claw-like Fingers '' '' 270 

She still Strove, but felt his Strength 

GREATER THAN HERS “ 303 ^ 




\ 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


CHAPTER I. 

The schoolhouse at Waddy was not in the least like 
any of the trim State buildings that now decorate 
every Victorian townsliip and mark every mining or 
agricultural centre that can scrape together two or 
three meagre classes ; it was the result of a purely 
local enthusiasm, and was erected by public subscrip- 
tion shortly after Mr. Joel Ham, B. A., arrived in the 
district and let it be understood that he did not intend 
to go away again. Having discovered that it was im- 
possible to make anything else of Mr. Joel Ham, 
Waddy resolved to make a schoolmaster of him. A 
meeting was held in the Drovers’ Arms, numerous 
speeches, all much more eloquently expressive of the 
urgent need of convenient scholastic institutions than 
the orators imagined, were delivered by representative 
men, and a resolution embodying the determination of 
the residents to erect a substantial building and install 
Mr. J. Ham, B.A., as headmaster was carried unani- 
mously. 


1 




THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


The original contributors were not expected to do- 
nate money towards the good cause ; they gave labour 
and material. The work of erection was commenced 
next day. Neither plans nor specifications were sup- 
plied, and every contributor was his own architect. 
Timber of all sorts and shapes came in from fifty 
sources. The men of the day shift at the mines 
worked at the building in the evening ; those on the 
four- o’ clock shift put in an hour or two in the morn- 
ing, and mates off the night shift lent a hand at any 
time during the day, one man taking up the work 
where the other left off. Consequently — and as there 
was no ruling mind and no general design — the school 
when finished seemed to lack continuity, so to speak. 
As an architectural effort it displayed evidence of 
many excellent intentions, but could not be called a 
brilliant success as a whole — although one astute Par- 
liamentary candidate did secure an overwhelming ma- 
jority of votes in Waddy after declaring the school- 
house to be an ornament to the township. The pub- 
lic-spirited persons who contributed windows, it was 
tacitly agreed, were quite justified in putting in those 
windows according to the dictates of their own fancy, 
even if the result was somewhat bizarre, Jock Sum- 
mers gave a bell hung in a small gilded dome, and 
this was fixed on the roof right in the centre of the 
building, mainly for picturesque effect; but as there 
was no rope attached and no means of reaching the 
bell — and it never occurred to anybody to rectify the 
deficiency — Jock’s gift remained to the end merely 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


3 


an ornamental adjunct. So also with Sam Brierly’s 
Gothic portico. Sam expended much time and inge- 
nuity in constructing the portico, and it was built on 
to the street end of the schoolhouse, although there 
was no door there, the only entrance being at the 
back. 

The building was opened with a tea-fight and a 
dance, and answered its purpose very well up to the 
time of the first heavy rains ; then studies had to be 
postponed indefinitely, for the floor was a foot under 
water. A call was made upon the united strength of 
the township, and the building was lifted bodily and 
set down again on piles. When the open space be- 
tween the ground and the floor was boarded up, the 
residents were delighted to find that the increased 
height had given the structure quite an imposing ap- 
pearance. Alas! before six months had passed the 
place was found to be going over on one side. 
Waddy watched this failing with growing uneasiness. 
When the collapse seemed inevitable, the male adults 
were again bidden to an onerous public duty; tliey 
rolled up like patriots, and with a mighty eifort 
pushed the school up into the perpendicular, prop- 
ping it there with stout stays. That answered excel- 
lently for a time, but eventually the wretched house 
began to slant in the opposite direction. Once more 
the men of Waddy attended in force, and spent an 
arduous half-day hoisting it into an upright position, 
and securing it there with more stays. It took the 
eccentric building a long time to decide upon its next 


4 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


move; then it suddenly lurched forward a foot or 
more, and after that slipped an inch or two farther 
out of plumb every day. But the ingenuity of W addy 
was not exhausted : a few hundred feet of rope and a 
winch were borrowed from the Peep o’ Day; the 
rope was run round the schoolhouse, and the building 
was promptly hauled back into shape and fastened 
down with long timbers running from its sides to a 
convenient red-gum stump at the back. Thus it re- 
mained for many years, bulging at the sides, pitching 
forward, and straining at its tetliers like an eager 
hound in a leash. 

It was literally a humming hot day at Waddy; 
the pulsing whirr of invisible locusts filled the whole 
air with a drowsy hum, and from the fiat at the back 
of the township, where a few thousand ewes and 
lambs were shepherded amongst the quarry holes, 
came another insistent droning in a deeper note, like 
the murmur of distant surf. ISTo one was stirring: to 
the right and left along the single thin wavering line 
of unpainted weatherworn wooden houses nothing 
moved but mirage waters flickering in the hollows of 
the ironstone road. Equally deserted was the wide 
stretch of brown plain, dotted with poppet legs and 
here and there a whim, across the dull expanse of 
which Waddy seemed to peer with stupid eyes. 

From within the school were heard alternately, 
with the regularity of a mill, the piping of an old 
cracked voice and the brave chanting of a childish 
chorus. Under the school, where the light was dim 


THE GOLD-STEALEKS. 


and the air was decidedly musty, two small boys were 
crouched, playing a silent game of ^ stag knife. ’ 
Besides being dark and evil -smelling under there, it 
was damp; great clammy masses of cobweb hung 
from the joists and spanned the spaces between the 
piles. The place was haunted by strange and fear- 
some insects, too, and the moving of the classes above 
sent showers of dust down between the cracks in the 
worn floor. But those boys were satisfled that they 
were having a perfectly blissful time, and were 
serenely happy in deflance of unpropitious sur- 
roundings. They were ‘playing the wag,’ and to 
be playing the wag under any circumstances is 
a guarantee of pure felicity to the average healthy 
boy. 

Probably the excessive heat had suggested to Dick 
Haddon the advisability of spending the afternoon 
under the school instead of within the close crowded 
room; at any rate he suggested it to Jacker 
McKnight, commonly known as Jacker Mack, and 
now after an hour of it the boys were still jubilant. 
The game had to be played with great caution, and 
conversation was conducted in whispers when ideas 
could not be conveyed in dumb show. All that was 
going on in the room above was distinctly audible to 
the deserters below, and the joy of camping there out 
of the reach of Joel Ham, B.A., and beyond all the 
trials and tribulations of the Higher Fifth, and hear- 
ing other fellows being tested, and hectored, and 
caned, was too tremendous for whisperings, and must 


6 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


be expressed in wild rollings and contortions and con- 
vulsive kicking. 

‘ Parrot Cann, will you kindly favour me with a 
few minutes on the floor? ’ 

It was the old cracked voice, flavoured with an omi- 
nous irony. Dick paused in the middle of a throw 
with a cocked ear and upturned eyes; Jacker Mack 
grinned all across his broad face and winked mean- 
ingly. They heard the shuffling of a pair of heavily 
shod feet, and then the voice again. 

‘ Parrot, my man, you are a comedian by instinct, 
and will probably live to be an ornament to the the- 
atrical profession ; but it is my duty to repress pre- 
mature manifestations of your genius. Parrot, hold 
out! ’ 

They heard the swish of the cane and the school- 
master’s sarcastic comments between the strokes. 

‘ Ah-h, that was a beauty ! Once more. Parrot, 
my friend, if you please. Excellent! Excellent! 
We will try again. Practice of this kind makes for 
perfection, you know, Parrot. Good, good — very 
good ! If you should be spoiled in the making. Par- 
rot, you will not in your old age ascribe it to any 
paltry desire on my part to spare the rod, will you. 
Parrot? ’ 

‘ S’help me, I won’t, sir! ’ 

There was such a world of pathos in the wail with 
which Parrot replied that Dick choked in his efforts 
to repress his emotions. The lads heard the victim 
blubbing, and pictured his humorous contortions after 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


7 


every cut — for Parrot was weirdly and wonderfully 
gymnastic under punishment — and Jacker hugged 
himself and kicked ecstatically, and young Haddon 
bowed his forehead in the dirt and drummed with his 
toes, and gave expression to his exuberant hilarity in 
frantic pantomime. The rough and ready schoolboy 
is very near to the beginnings ; his sense of humour 
has not been impaired by over-refinement, but remains 
somewhat akin to that of the gentle savage ; and al- 
though his disposition to laugh at the misfortunes of 
his best friends may be deplorable from various points 
of view, it has not been without its infiuence in fash- 
ioning those good men who put on a brave face in the 
teeth of tribulation. 

‘ Gee-rusalem ! ain’t Jo got a thirst?’ whispered 
Dick when the spasm had passed. 

‘ My oath, ain’t he ! ’ replied Jacker, ‘ but he was 
drunk up afore twelve.’ 

It is necessary to explain here that the school 
committee, in electing Mr. Ham to the position of 
schoolmaster, compelled him to sign a formal agree- 
ment, drawn up in quaint legal gibberish, in which it 
was specified that ‘ the herein afore-mentioned Joel 
Ham, B.A.,’ was to be limited to a certain amount of 
alcoholic refreshment per diem, and McMahon, at the 
Drovers’ Arms, bound himself over to supply no more 
than the prescribed quantity ; but it was understood 
that this galling restriction did not apply to Mr. Ham 
on Saturdays and holidays. 

The noises above subsided into the usual school 


8 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


drone, and the boys under the floor resumed their 
game. It was an extremely interesting game, closely 
contested. Each player watched the other’s actions 
with an alert and suspicious eye, and this want of 
confldence led directly to the boys’ undoing; for 
presently Dick detected Jacker in an attempt to 
deceive, and signalled ‘ Down ! ’ with an emphatic 
gesture. ‘ Gerrout ! ’ was the word framed by the 
lips of the indignant Jacker. Haddon gesticulated an 
angry protest, and McKnight’s gestures and grimaces 
were intended to convey a wish that he might be vis- 
ited with unspeakable pains and penalties if he were 
not an entirely virtuous and grievously misjudged 
small boy. 

‘ It’s a lie,’ hissed Dick ; ‘ it was down ! ’ 

‘ You’re another — it wasn’t! ’ 

^ ’Twas, I tell you ! ’ 

‘ ’Twasn’t ! ’ 

‘ Gimme my knife; I don’t play with sharps an’ 
sneaks. ’ 

‘ Won’t I ’ 

^ Gimme it ! ’ 

All caution had been forgotten by this time, voices 
were shrill, and eyes spoke of battle. Dick made at 
Jacker with a threatening fist, and Jacker, with an 
adroitness for which he was famous, met him with a 
clip on the shin from a copper-toed boot. Then the 
lads grappled and commenced a vigorous and enthusi- 
astic battle in the dirt and amongst the cobweb 
curtains. 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


9 


In the schoolroom above Joel Ham, startled from a 
dreamy drowsiness, heard with wonder fierce voices 
under his feet, the sounds of blows and of bumping 
heads, and saw his scholars all distracted. The master 
divined the truth in a very few minutes. 

‘Cann, Peterson, Moonlight,’ he called, ^follow 
me.’ 

He selected a favourite cane from the rack, and 
strutted out with the curious boys at his heels. 

‘How then, Peterson,’ he said, and he paused with 
artful preoccupation to double his cane over and under, 
and critically examine the end thereof, ‘ you are a 
very observant youth, Peterson ; you will tell me how 
those boys got under the school. ’ 

‘ Dun no,’ said Peterson, assuming the expression 
of an aged cow. 

The master seized him by the collar. 

‘ Peterson, you have the faculty of divination. I 
give you till I have counted ten to exert it. I am 
counting, Peterson.’ 

Very often the schoolmaster’s language was Greek 
to the scholars, but his meaning was never in doubt 
for a moment. 

‘Eight, Peterson, nine.’ 

Peterson slouched along a few yards, and kicked 
stupidly and resentfully at a loose board. 

‘Might ’a’ got in there,’ he growled. ‘Why 
couldn’t you ’a’ asked Moonlight ? — he don’ mind 
bein’ a sneak. ’ 

But Mr. Ham was down on his knees removing the 


10 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


loose board, and for two or three minutes after 
crouched at the opening like a famished yellow cat at 
a rat-hole, awaiting his opportunity. Meanwhile the 
fight under the school was being prosecuted with un- 
abated fury. Dick and Jacker gripped like twin 
bull- terriers, rolling and tumbling about in the confined 
space, careless of everything but the important busi- 
ness in hand. Suddenly Mr. Ham made his spring, 
and a smart haul brought a leg to light. Another tug, 
and a second leg shot forth. 

‘ Pull, boys ! ’ he cried. 

Moonlight seized the other limb, and a good tug 
brought the two boys out into the open, still fighting 
enthusiastically and apparently oblivious of their sur- 
roundings. Two soldier ants never fought with greater 
determination or with such a whole-souled devotion to 
the cause. Over and over they tumbled in the dust, 
clutching hair, hammering ribs, and grunting and 
grasping, blind, deaf, and callous as logs; and Joel 
Ham stood above them with the familiar cynical twist 
on his blotched visage, twisting his cane and making 
audible comments, but offering no further interfer- 
ence. 

‘ After you, my boys — after you. There is no 
hurry, Haddon, I can wait as you are so busy. Mc- 
Knight, your future is assured. The prize ring is 
your sphere: there wealth and glory await you. 
Peterson, you see here how degraded that boy be- 
comes who forgets those higher principles which it is 
my earnest effort to instil into the hearts and minds 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


11 


of the boys of this depraved township. Cann, my 
boy, behold how brutalising is ungoverned instinct. ’ 
But, wearying of the contest, the master made a 
sudden descent upon Jacker, and tore him from his 
enemy’s grasp. The effort brought Dick to his feet, 
panting and still eager for the fray. He could not 
see an inch beyond his nose, and for a few moments 
moved about fiercely, feeling for his foe. 

^ D’you gimme best ? ’ he spluttered. ‘ If you 
don’t, come on — I ain’t done up ! ’ Then he filing 
the curtain of cobweb from his eyes, and the situa- 
tion fiashed upon him in all its grim significance. 
For a swift moment he thought of flight, but the 
master’s grip was on his collar. 

‘Slowed if it ain’t Jo,’ he murmured in his con- 
sternation, and yielded meekly, like one for whom 
Fate had proved too strong. 

The schoolmaster’s white-lashed eyelids blinked 
rapidly for a second or so, and he screwed his face 
into a hard wrinkled grin of gratification. 

‘Yes, Ginger, my lad,’ he said genially, ‘Jo, at 
your service — very much at your service ; and yours, 
McKnight. We will go inside now, boys. The sun 
is painfully hot, and you are fatigued. ’ 

He marched his captives before him into the school- 
room and ranged them against the wall, under the 
wide-open wondering eyes of the scholars, by whom 
even the most trifiing incident of rebellion was always 
welcomed with glee as a break in the dull monotony 
of Joel Ham’s peculiar system. But this was no 


14 


THE GOLD-STEALEKS. 


^ Haddon,’ said the master in a reflective tone, ‘ you 
are not looking as neat as usual. You need dusting. 
I will perform that kind office presently, and, believe 
me, I will do it well. Jacker, I intend to leave you 
standing here for a few moments to cool. You may 
have noticed, boys, that the youthful form when 
over-heated or possessed with unusual excitement has 
not that poignant susceptibility which might be 
thought necessary to the adequate appreciation of a 
judicious lambasting. Has that ever occurred to you, 
McKnight ? ’ 

Jacker shifted his feet uneasily, rolled his body, 
and, knowing that nothing could aggravate his offence, 
answered sullenly : 

‘ Oh, dry up ! ’ 

Mr. Ham grinned at the boy in silence for a few 
moments, and then returned to his high stool and desk. 
Mr. Ham never made the slightest effort to maintain 
before his scholars that dignity which is supposed to 
be essential to the success of a pedagogue. In ad- 
dressing the boys he used their correct names, or the 
nicknames liberally bestowed upon them by their 
mates, indiscriminately, and showed no resentment 
whatever when he heard himself alluded to as Jo, or 
Hamlet, or the Beetle, his most frequent appellations 
in the playground. He kept a black bottle in his desk, 
at the neck of which he habitually refreshed himself 
before the whole school; and he addressed the chil- 
dren with an elaborate and caustic levity in a thin 
shaky voice quito twenty years too old for him. His 


THE GOLD-STEALEKS. 


15 


humour was thrown away upon the rising generation 
of Waddy, and might have been supposed to be the 
cat-like pawing of a vicious mind; but Joel Ham was 
not cruel, and although when occasion demanded he 
could use the cane with exceeding smartness, he fre- 
quently overlooked misdemeanours that might have 
justified an attack, and was never betrayed into ad- 
ministering unmerited cuts even when his black bottle 
was empty and his thirst most virulent. 

In spite of his eccentricities and his weaknesses, and 
the fact that he was neither respected nor dreaded. 
Ham brought his scholars on remarkably well. There 
were three big classes in the room — first, third, and 
fifth — and a higher and lower branch of each; he 
managed all, with the assistance of occasional monitors 
selected from the best pupils. Good order prevailed 
in the school, for little that went on there escaped the 
master’s alert eye. Even when he drowsed at his 
desk, as he sometimes did on warm afternoons, the 
work was not delayed, for he was known to have a 
trick of awakening with a jerk, and smartly nailing a 
culprit or a dawdler. 

The school to-day was in a tense and excitable con- 
dition, now heightened to fever by the two cobwebbed 
mysteries standing against the wall, but the imperative 
rattle of Joel’s cane on the desk quickly induced a 
specious show of industry. 

^ Gable! ’ 

The individual addressed, a big scholar in the 
Lower Third, was so absorbed in the spectacle pro- 


16 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


vided by Haddon and McKnigbt that he failed to 
hear the master’s voice, and continued staring stupidly 
with all his eyes. 

‘ Gable! This way, my dear child.’ 

Gable started guiltily, and then fell into confusion, 
lie climbed awkwardly out of his seat, and advanced 
hesitatingly with shuffling feet towards the master. 
It was now evident that Gable was not a large boy, 
but a little old man, slightly built, with a round 
ruddy clean-shaven face and thick white hair. But 
his manner was that of a boy of eight. 

^Hold out, my young friend! ’ Joel commanded, 
with an expressive flourish of his cane. 

Gable held out his hand ; his toothless mouth 
formed itself into a dark oval, his eyes distended with 
painful expectancy, and he assumed the shrinking at- 
titude of the very small boy who expects the fall of 
the cane. The situation was absurd, but no one 
smiled. Ham raised the extended hand a little with 
the end of the dreaded weapon. 

‘ You are going the right way to come to a dishon- 
oured old age. Gable,’ he said, and the cane went up, 
but the cut was not delivered. ^ There,’ continued 
the master, ‘ I forgive you in consideration of your 
extreme youth. Go to your place, and try to set a 
better example to the older boys.’ 

The old man trotted back to his seat, grinning all 
over his face, and set to work at his book with an ap- 
pearance of intense zeal; and Joel Ham turned his 
attention to the prime culprits. Having marched the 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


17 


youngsters from the front desk of the third class, he 
drew desk and form forward into the middle of the 
clear space, and then beckoned to McKnight. 

^ Jacker, my man,’ he said cheerfully, ^ bring your 
slate and sit here. I have a little job for you.’ 

Dick, standing alone, watched his mate seat himself 
at the desk, elated for a moment with the idea that 
perhaps Jo was not going to regard their offence as 
particularly heinous after all ; but his better judgment 
scouted the idea, and he returned to his scrutiny of 
the wall. There was a weak spot near where Hector, 
Peterson’s billy-goat, had butted his way through on 
a memorable occasion, and escape was still a comfort- 
ing contingency. 

The master approached McKnight with a pencil as 
if to set a lesson, but this was merely a ruse; Jacker 
was a hard-headed vicious youth whose favourite kick 
Ham wisely reckoned with on an occasion like this. 
To the boy’s surprise and disgust he was presently 
seized by the neck and hauled forward on to the desk. 
His legs, being against the seat, which was attached 
to the desk, were quite useless for defence, so that he 
was a helpless victim under the chastening rod. It 
was a degrading attitude, and the presence of the 
girls made the punishment a disgrace to rankle and 
burn. Jacker, for pride and the credit of his boy- 
hood, made no sound under the first dozen cuts ; but 
his younger brother Ted, from his place in the Lower 
Fifth, set up a lugubrious wail of sympathy almost 
immediately, and, as his feelings were more and 


18 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


more wrouglit upon by tlie painful sight, his wail- 
ing developed into shrill and tearful abuse of the 
master. 

^ You let him alone, see!’ yelled Ted, when 
Jacker, unable longer to contain himself, uttered a 
dismal cry. 

‘ Hit some one j^er size — go on, hit some one yer 
size ! ’ screamed Ted. 

But Mr. Ham’s whole attention was devoted to his 
task, and the younger McKnight’s threats, com- 
mands, and warnings were entirely ignored, although 
the boy continued to utter them between his heart- 
broken sobs. 

^ Mind who you’re hittin’ ! You’ll suffer for this, 
Hamlet, you’ll see! We’ll get some one what’ll 
show you ! Bocks for you nex’ Saterdee ! ’ 

Ted howled, Jacker howled, but the master caned 
on until he thought he had quite accomplished his 
duty in that particular ; then he let the limp youth 
slide back into his seat. 

Mr. Ham returned to his high stool to rest and 
recuperate. Throughout the proceedings he had 
displayed no heat whatever, and when he addressed 
Jacker it was with his usual bland irony. 

^ You should thank me for my pains, my boy, but 
youth is proverbially ungrateful. You will think 
better of my efforts a few years hence ; meanwhile I 
can afford to wait for the verdict of your riper 
judgment, Jacker — I can afford to wait, my boy.’ 

Jacker’s only reply to this was a long wail expres- 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


19 


sive of a great disgust. That outburst was too much 
for the already over-wrought youngster in the Lower 
Fiftli : starting up with a cry, Ted snatched one of 
the leaden ink-wells from its cell in the desk, and 
took aim at the master’s head. The well struck the 
wall just above its mark, and scattered its contents in 
Joel Ham’s pale hair, in his eyes, down his cheeks, 
and all over his white moles. Amazement — blind, 
round- eyed, dumb amazement — possessed the school, 
and for a few seconds a dead silence prevailed. The 
spell was broken by Dick Haddon, who discovered 
his opportunity, plunged like a diver at the weak 
spot in the wall, went clean through and disappeared 
from view. Ted McKnight, who had awakened to 
the enormity of his crime at the sight of the master 
knuckling the ink out of his eyes, and had gone 
grey to the lips in his trepidation, looking anxiously 
to the right and left for a refuge, saw Dickie’s 
departure; jumping the desk in front he rushed at 
the aperture the latter had left in the wall, and 
was gone in the twinkling of an eye. 

The master mopped the ink from his hair and his 
j face with a sheet of blotting paper, and calling 
I Belman, Cann, Peterson, Jinks, and Slogan, made 
\ for the door. Already Dick Haddon was halfway 
I across the flat, scattering the browsing sheep to the 
I right and left in his flight, and Ted was following at 
; his best pace. 

[ ‘After them ! ’ cried the master. ‘ Two whole 
j days’ holiday for you if you run them down,’ 


20 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


The pursuit was taken up cheerfully enough, but 
it was quite hopeless. The breakaways were heading 
for the line of bush, and the sapling scrub along the 
creek was so thick tliat the boys would have been 
perfectly secure under its cover, even if the pursuers 
were not in hearty sympathy with the pursued, and 
the pursuit were not a miserable and perfidious 
pretence. 

Mr. Ham, recognising after a few minutes how 
matters really stood, returned to the school. His 
approach had been signalled by a scout at one of the 
windows, and he found the classes all in order and 
suspiciously industrious, and Jacker McKnight still 
sitting with his head sunk upon his arms — a monument 
of sturdy resentment. 

‘ My boys, ’ said the master, looking ludicrously 
piebald after his ink bath, ^ before resuming duties I 
wish to draw your attention to the crass foolishness 
of which our young friends Haddon and McKnight 
are guilty. You perceive that their action is not 
diplomatic, eh ? ’ 

‘Ye — yes, sir,’ piped a dubious voice here and 
there. 

‘ To be sure. Had they remained they would have 
been caned ; as they have run away, they will receive 
a double dose and certain extra pains and penalties, 
and meanwhile they suffer the poignant pangs of 
anticipation. Anticipation, Jacker, my boy, the 
smart of future punishments, is the true hell-fiame.’ 

Jacker replied with a grunt of derisive and 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


21 


implacable bitterness, but the schoolmaster seemed 
much comforted by his apophthegm, and stood for 
several minutes surveying the back of McKnight’s 
head, and wearing a benignant and thoughtful 
smile. 


CHAPTEE III. 


Waddy was soon possessed of the facts of the 
shameful acts of insubordination at the school and the 
escape of Dick Haddon and Ted McKnight, and no- 
body — according to everybody’s wise assurances — 
was the least bit surprised. The fathers of the town- 
ship (and the mothers, too) had long since given Dick 
up as an irresponsible and irreclaimable imp. One 
large section declared the boy to be ‘a bit gone,’ 
which was generally Waddy’s simple and satisfactory 
method of accounting for any attribute of man, 
woman, or child not in conformity with the dull rule 
of conduct prevailing at Waddy. Another section 
persisted in its belief that ‘ the boy Haddon ’ was pos- 
sessed with several peculiar devils of lawlessness and 
unrest, which could only be exorcised by means of 
daily ^ hidings, ’ long abstinence from any diet more 
inflammatory than bread and water, and the continu- 
ous acquisition of great quantities of Scripture. 

An extraordinary meeting of the School Committee 
was held at the Drovers’ Arms that evening to confer 
with Joel Ham, B.A., and consider what was best to 
be done under the circumstances. The men of the 
township recognised that it was their bounden duty to 
support the master in an affair of this kind. When 

22 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


23 


occasion arose they assisted in the capture of vagrant 
youths, and when Joel imagined a display of force 
advisable they attended at the punishment and ren- 
dered such assistance as was needful in the due en- 
forcement of discipline. It was understood by all 
that the school would lose prestige and eJSBciency if 
Haddon and McKnight were not taken and at once 
subjected to the rules of the establishment and the 
rod of the master. 

The meeting was quite informal. It was held in 
the bar, and the discussion of the vital matter in hand 
was concurrent with the absorption of McMahon’s 
beer. Mr. Ham’s best attention was given to the 
latter object. 

‘ Bring the boys to me, gentlemen,’ he said, ^ and 
I will undertake to induce in them a wholesome con- 
trition and a proper respect for letters — temporarily, 
at least. ’ 

Neither of the lads had yet returned to his home ; 
but the paternal McKnight promised, like a good 
citizen, that immediately his son was available he 
would be reduced to subjection with a length of belt- 
ing, and then handed over to the will of the scholastic 
authority without any reservation. Mr. McKnight 
was commended for his public spirit ; and it was then 
agreed that a member of the Committee should wait 
upon Widow Haddon to invite her co-operation, and 
point out the extent to which her son’s mental and 
moral development would be retarded by a display of 
weakness on her part at a crisis of this kind. 


24 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


Mr. Ephraim Shine volunteered for this duty. 
Ephraim was a tall gaunt man, with hollow cheeks, a 
leathery complexion, and large feet. He walked or 
sat with his eyes continually fixed upon these feet — 
reproachfully, it seemed — as if their disproportion 
were a source of perennial woe ; he carried his arms 
looped behind him, and had acquired a peculiar stoop 
— to facilitate his vigilant guardianship of his feet, 
apparently. Mr. Shine, as superintendent of the 
Waddy Wesleyan Chapel, represented a party that 
had long since broken away from the School Com- 
mittee, which was condemned in prayer as licentious 
and ungodly, and left to its wickedness when it exhib- 
ited a determination to stand by Joel Ham, a scoffer 
and a drinker of strong drinks, as against a respect- 
able, if comparatively unlettered, nominee of the 
Chapel and the Band of Hope. His presence at the 
committee meeting to-night was noted with surprise, 
although it excited no remark ; and his offer to inter- 
view the widow was accepted with gratitude as a 
patriotic proposal. There was only one dissentient — 
Eogers, a burly faceman from the Silver Stream. 

^ Don’t send Shine to cant an’ snuffle, an’ preach 
the poor woman into a fit o’ the miserables,’ he said. 

Ephraim lifted his patient eyes to Kogers’s face for 
a moment with an expression of meek reproof, then 
let them slide back to his boots again, but answered 
nothing. The enmity of the two was well known in 
Waddy. Bogers was a worldly man who drank and 
swore, and who loved a fight as other men loved a 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


25 


good meal; and Shine, as the superintendent, must 
withhold his countenance from so grievous a sinner. 
Besides, there was a belief that at some time or an- 
other the faceman had thrashed Shine, who was 
searcher at the Stream in his week-day capacity, and 
for that reason was despised by the miners, and 
regarded as a creature apart. Ephraim, it was re- 
marked, was always particularly careful in searching 
Bogers when he came off shift, in the hope, as the 
men believed, of one day finding a secreted nugget, 
and getting even with his enemy by gaoling him for a 
few years. 

As Ephraim passed out from the bar he again 
allowed his eyes to roll up and meet those of his enemy 
from the dark shadow of his thick brows. 

^ Don’t forget the little widow was sweet on Frank 
Hardy before you jugged him, Tinribs,’ said the 
miner. 

Tinribs was a name bestowed upon the superin- 
tendent by the youth of Waddy, and called after him 
by irreverent small boys from convenient cover or 
under the shelter of darkness. He found the Widow 
Haddon at home. She it was who answered his 
knock. 

‘ I have come from the School Committee, ma’am,’ 
he said, still intent upon his boots. 

^ About Dickie, is it? Come in.’ 

Mrs. Haddon was dressmaker-in-ordinary to the 
township, and her otherwise carefully tended kitchen 
was littered with slippings and bits of material. She 


26 


THE GOLD-STEALEKS. 


resumed her task by the lamp as soon as the delegate 
of the School Committee was comfortably seated. 

^ Has Richard come home, ma’am? ’ Ephraim 
was an orator, and prided himself on his command of 
language. 

The widow shook her head. ‘ No,’ she said com- 
posedly. ^ I don’t think he will come home to-night. ’ 

‘ We have had a committee meeting, missus,’ said 
Ephraim, examining the toe of his left boot reproach- 
fully, ‘an’ it’s understood we’ve got to catch these 
boys. ’ 

‘What! ’ cried Mrs. Haddon, dropping her work 
into her lap. ‘ You silly men are going to make a 
hunt of it? Then, let me tell you, you will not get 
that boy of mine to-morrow, nor this week, nor next. 
Was ever such a pack of fools! Let Dickie think he 
is being hunted, and he’ll be a bushranger, or a 
brigand chief, or a pirate, or something desperately 
wicked in that amazin’ head of his, and you won’t 
get a-nigh him for weeks, not a man Jack of you ! 
Dear, dear, dear, you men — a set of interferin’, mut- 
ton-headed creatures ! ’ 

‘ He’s an unregenerate youth — that boy of yours, 
ma’am.’ 

‘Is he, indeed?’ Mrs. Haddon’ s handsome face 
flushed, and she squared her trim little figure. ‘ Was 
he that when he went down the broken winze to poor 
Ben Holden? Was he that when he brought little 
Kitty Green and her pony out of the burnin’ scrub? 
Was he all a little villain when he found you trapped 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


27 


in the cleft of a log under the mount there, when the 
Stream men wouldn’t stir a foot to seek you? ’ 

During this outburst Shine had twisted his boots in 
all directions, and examined them minutely from 
every point of view. 

‘ No, no, ma’am,’ he said, ‘ not all bad, not at all; 
but — ah, the — ah, influence of a father is missing, 
Mrs. Haddon.’ 

‘ That’s my boy’s misfortune, Mr. Superintendent.’ 

‘ It — it might be removed.’ 

‘ Eh? What’s that you say? ’ 

The widow eyed her visitor sharply, but he was 
squirming over his unfortunate feet, and apparently 
suffering untold agonies on their account. 

‘ The schoolmaster must be supported, missus, ’ he 
said hastily. ‘ Discipline, you know. Boys have to 
be mastered.’ 

‘ To be sure ; but you men, you don’t know how. 
My Dick is the best boy in the school, sometimes.’ 

^Sometimes, ma’am, yes.’ 

‘ Yes, sometimes, and would be always if you men 
had a pen’orth of ideas. Boys should be driven 
sometimes and sometimes coaxed.’ 

‘ And how’d you coax him what played wag under 
the very school, fought there, an’ then broke out of 
the place like a burgerler ? ’ 

‘ I know, I know — that’s bad; but it’s been a fear- 
ful tryin’ day, an’ allowances should be made. ’ 

‘ Then, if he comes home you’ll give him over to 
be— ah, dealt with? ’ 


26 


THE GOLD-STEALEKS. 


resumed her task by the lamp as soon as the delegate 
of the School Committee was comfortably seated. 

^ Has Kichard come home, ma’am?’ Ephraim 
was an orator, and prided himself on his command of 
language. 

The widow shook her head. ^ No,’ she said com- 
posedly. ^ I don’t think he will come home to-night. ’ 

‘ We have had a committee meeting, missus,’ said 
Ephraim, examining the toe of his left boot reproach- 
fully, ‘an’ it’s understood we’ve got to catch these 
boys.’ 

‘ What ! ’ cried Mrs. Haddon, dropping her work 
into her lap. ‘ You silly men are going to make a 
hunt of it? Then, let me tell you, you will not get 
that boy of mine to-morrow, nor this week, nor next. 
Was ever such a pack of fools! Let Dickie think he 
is being hunted, and he’ll be a bushranger, or a 
brigand chief, or a pirate, or something desperately 
wicked in that amazin’ head of his, and you won’t 
get a-nigh him for weeks, not a man Jack of you ! 
Dear, dear, dear, you men — a set of interferin’, mut- 
ton-headed creatures ! ’ 

‘ He’s an unregenerate youth — that boy of yours, 
ma’am.’ 

‘Is he, indeed?’ Mrs. Haddon’ s handsome face 
"^flushed, and she squared her trim little figure. ‘ Was 
he that when he went down the broken winze to poor 
Ben Holden? Was he that when he brought little 
Kitty Green and her pony out of the burnin’ scrub? 
Was he all a little villain when he found you trapped 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


27 


in the cleft of a log under the mount there, when the 
Stream men wouldn’t stir a foot to seek you? ’ 

During this outburst Shine had twisted his boots in 
all directions, and examined them minutely from 
every point of view. 

‘ No, no, ma’am,’ he said, ^ not all bad, not at all; 
but — ah, the — ah, influence of a father is missing, 
Mrs. Haddon.’ 

^ That’s my boy’s misfortune, Mr. Superintendent.’ 

‘ It — it might be removed.’ 

‘ Eh? What’s that you say? ’ 

The widow eyed her visitor sharply, but he was 
squirming over his unfortunate feet, and apparently 
suffering untold agonies on their account. 

‘ The schoolmaster must be supported, missus, ’ he 
said hastily. ‘ Discipline, you know. Boys have to 
be mastered.’ 

‘ To be sure; but you men, you don’t know how. 
My Dick is the best boy in the school, sometimes.’ 

‘Sometimes, ma’am, yes.’ 

‘ Yes, sometimes, and would be always if you men 
had a pen’orth of ideas. Boys should be driven 
sometimes and sometimes coaxed.’ 

‘ And bow’d you coax him what played wag under 
the very school, fought there, an’ then broke out of 
the place like a burgerler? ’ 

‘ I know, I know — that’s bad; but it’s been a fear- 
ful tryin’ day, an’ allowances should be made.’ 

‘ Then, if he comes home you’ll give him over to 
be —ah, dealt with? ’ 


28 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


‘ Certainly, superintendent ; I am not a fool, an’ I 
want my boy taught. But don’t you men go chasin’ 
those lads; they’ll just enjoy it, an’ you’ll do no 
good. You leave Dickie to me, an’ I’ll have him 
home here in two shakes. Dickie’s a high-spirited 
boy, an’ full o’ the wild fancies of boys. He’s done 
this sort o’ thing before. Run away from home once 
to be a sailor, an’ slep’ for two nights in a windy old 
tree not a hundred yards from his own comfortable 
bed, imaginin’ he was what he called on the foretop 
somethin’ . But I know well enough how to work on 
his feelings.’ 

^ A father, ma’am, would be the savin’ o’ that lad.’ 

Mrs. Haddon dropped her work again and her dark 
eyes snapped ; but Ephraim Shine had lifted one boot 
on to his knee, and was examining a hole in the sole 
with bird-like curiosity. 

^ When I think my boy needs special savin’ I’ll 
send for you, Mr. Shine — p’r’aps.’ 

^ It’d be a grave responsibility, a trial an’ a con- 
stant triberlation, but I offer myself. I’ll be a father 
to your boy, ma’am, barrin’ objections.’ 

^ An’ what is meant by that, Mr. Shine? ’ 

The widow, flushed of face, with her work thrust 
forward in her lap and a steely light in her fine eyes, 
regarded the searcher steadily. 

‘ An offer of marriage to yourself is meant, Mrs. 
Haddon, ma’am.’ 

Shine’s eyes came sliding up under his brows till 
they encountered those of Mrs. Haddon; then they 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


29 


fell again suddenly. The little widow tapped the 
table impressively with her thimbled finger, and her 
breast heaved. 

‘ Do you remember Frank Hardy, Ephraim Shine? ’ 

‘ To be certain I do. ’ 

^ Well, man, you may have heard what Frank 
Hardy was to me before he went to — to ’ 

^To gaol, Mrs. Haddon ? Yes.’ 

‘ Listen to this, then. What Frank Hardy was to 
me before he is still, only more dear, an’ I’d as lief 
everybody in Waddy knew it.’ 

‘ A gaol-bird an’ a thief he is.’ 

‘ He is in gaol, an’ that may make a gaol-bird of 
him, but he is no thief. ’Twas you got him into 
gaol, an’ now you dare do this. ’ 

Shine’s slate- coloured eyes slid up and fell again. 

‘ ’Twas done in the way o’ duty. He don’t deny 
I found the gold on him. ’ 

‘ Ho, but he denies ever havin’ seen it in his life 
before, an’ I believe him.’ 

‘ An’ about that cunnin’ little trap in his boot-heel, 
ma’am? ’ 

‘ It was what he said it was — the trick of some 
enemy.’ 

Mr. Shine lifted his right boot as if trying its 
weight, groaned and set it down again, tried the 
other, and said : 

‘ An’ who might the enemy ha’ been, d’ye think? ’ 

^ I do not know, but — I am Frank Hardy’s friend, 
and you may not abuse him in my house. ’ 


30 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


‘ You have a chance o’ a respectable man, missus.’ 

Mrs. Haddon had risen from her seat and was stand- 
ing over her visitor, a buxom black-gowned little fury. 

‘ An’ I tell him to go about his business, an’ that’s 
the way.’ The gesture the widow threw at her 
humble kitchen door was magnificent. ‘But stay,’ 
she cried, although the imperturbable Shine had not 
shown the slightest intention of moving. ‘You’ve 
heard I went with Frank’s mother to visit him in the 
gaol there at the city; p’r’aps you’re curious to 
know what I said. Well, I’ll tell you, an’ you can 
tell all Waddy from yon platform in the chapel nex’ 
Sunday, if you like. “Frank,” I said, “you asked 
^ me to be your wife, an’ I haven’t answered. I do 
now. I’ll meet you at the prison door when you 
come out, if you please, an’ I’ll marry you straight 
away.” Those were my very words, Mr. Superin- 
tendent, an’ I mean to keep to them.’ 

Mrs. Haddon stood with fiaming face and throb- 
bing bosom, a tragedy queen in miniature, suffused 
with honest emotion. Ephraim sat apparently ab- 
sorbed in his left boot, thrusting his finger into the 
hole in the sole, as if probing a wound. 

‘You wouldn’t think, ma’am,’ he said presently 
with the air of a martyr, ‘ that I gave fourteen-and- 
six for them pair o’ boots not nine weeks since.’ 

Mrs. Haddon turned away with an impatient 
gesture. 

‘ If you’ve said all you have to say, you might let 
me get on with my work, ’ 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


31 


‘I think that’s all, Mrs. Hacldon.’ The searcher 
arose, and stood for a moment turning up the toe of 
one hoot and then the other ; he seemed to be calcu- 
lating his losses on the bargain. ‘ You hand over the 
boy Kichard, I understand, ma’am ? ’ 

‘ I’ll do what is right, Mr. Shine.’ 

^ The Committee said as much. The Committee 
has great respect for you, Mrs. Haddon. ’ 

Ephraim lifted his feet with an effort, and carried 
them slowly from the house, carefully and quietly 
closing the kitchen door after him. About half a 
minute later he opened the door again, just as care- 
fully and as quietly, and said : 

‘ Good night, ma’am, and God bless you.’ 

Then he went away, his hands bunched behind him, 
walking like a man carrying a heavy burden. 


CHAPTEE IV. 


Dick Haddon and Ted McKnight were still at 
large next morning, and nothing was heard of them 
till two o’clock in the afternoon, when Wilson’s man, 
Jim Peetree, reported having discovered the boys 
swimming in the big qnarry in the old Eed Hand 
paddock. Jim, seeing a prospect of covering him- 
self with glory, made a dash after the truants ; but 
they snatched up their clothes and ran for the sap- 
lings up the creek, all naked as they were, and Jim 
was soon out of the hunt — though he captured Ted’s 
shirt, and produced it as a guarantee of good faith. 

That night three boys — three of the faithful — 
Jacker McKnight, Phil Doon, and Billy Peterson, 
stole through Wilson’s paddock carrying mysterious 
bundles, and taking as many precautions to avoid ob- 
servation and pursuit as if they were really, as they 
pretended to be with the fine imagination of early boy- 
hood, desperate characters bent upon an undertaking 
of unparalleled lawlessness and great daring. They 
crossed the creek and crept along in the shadow of the 
hill, for the moon, although low down in the sky, was 
still bright and dangerous to hunted outlaws. Off to 

32 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


33 


the left could be heard the long-drawn respirations of 
the engines at the Silver Stream, and the grind of her 
puddlers, the splashing of the slurry, and the occa- 
sional solemn, significant clang of a knocker. They 
passed the old Eed Hand shaft, long since deserted 
and denuded of poppet legs and engine-houses, its 
comparatively ancient tips almost overgrown and char- 
acterless, with lusty young gums fiourishing amongst 
its scattered boulders. Waddy venerated the old Eed 
Hand as something so ancient that its history left open- 
ings for untrammelled conjecture, and the boys asso- 
ciated it with not a few of the mysteries of those grand 
far-ofi ages when dragons abducted beautiful maidens 
and giants were quite common outside circuses. The 
mouth of the shaft was covered with substantial tim- 
bers, save for a small iron-barred door securely pad- 
locked. The pit now served a useful purpose as 
air-shaft for the Silver Stream, and the iron-runged 
ladders still ran down into its black depths. 

The boys kept to the timber, and presently found 
themselves climbing down the rugged rocks where the 
hillside suddenly became an abrupt wall. From here 
had been blasted the thousands of tons of rock that 
went to the building of that grim prison in Yarraman, 
the town where Frank Hardy lay, a good half-day’s 
tramp across the wide fiat country faced by the town- 
ship. The quarry, too, was overgrown again ; being 
almost inaccessible to Wilson’s cattle its undergrowth 
was rank and high, and as it was sheltered from the 
sun’s rays and watered in part by a tiny spring, it was 


34 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


often the one green oasis in a weary land of crackling 
yellow and drab. 

After gaining the bottom of the quarry, Jacker led 
the way to the deepest end. Here the bottom, cov- 
ered with scrub growth, sloped rather suddenly for a 
few feet up to the abrupt wall. Going on his hands 
and knees under the thick odorous peppermint saplings, 
Jacker ran his head into a niche in the rock amongst 
climbing sarsaparilla, and remained so, like some 
strange geological specimen half embedded in the rock. 
Within, where his head was hidden, the darkness was 
impenetrable. Jacker blew a strange note on a whistle 
manufactured from the nut of an apricot, and after a 
few moments a light appeared below him, a feeble 
flame, far down in the rock. This was waved twice 
and then withdrawn. 

^Eighto! ’ said Jacker in a hoarse piratical tone. 

^ Gimme the tucker. Black Douglas; I’ll go down. 
You coves keep watch, an’ no talkin’, mind.’ 

Phil grumbled inarticulately, and Jacker’ s tone 
became hoarser and more piratical still. 

‘ Who’s commandin’ here ? ’ he growled. ‘ D’ye 
mean mutiny? ’ 

^ Oh, shut up! ’ said Doon, bitterly. ‘Ho one’s 
goin’ t’ mutiny, but there ain’t no fun campin’ here.’ 

McKnight relented. 

‘ All right,’ he said, ‘ come down if you wanter. 
S’ pose you’ll on’y be inakin’ some kind of a row ’f I 
leave you.’ 

Jacker put the growth aside carefully, and going 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


35 

feet first gradually disappeared. Within there in the 
formless darkness he stood upon a ladder made of the 
long stem of a sapling to which cleats were nailed. 
The sapling was suspended in a black abyss. The boy, 
with his bundle hanging from his shoulder, started 
down fearlessly. Presently he came to where a second 
prop was fastened to the first with spikes and strong 
rope. Here he paused a moment, and called : 

‘ Hello, be-e-low there ! ’ 

Jacker’s character had undergone a rapid change; 
he was now quite an innocent and law-abiding person, 
a working shareholder in the Mount of Gold Quartz- 
mining Company. 

‘ On top ! ’ answered a cautious voice from the 
depths. 

‘ Look up — man on ! ’ 

And now, having observed the formalities, Jacker 
continued his descent, and in a few moments dropped 
from the primitive ladder and found a footing on a few 
planks thrown from one drive to another, across what 
was really an old shaft. At his back was a drive 
running into darkness ; before him was a small irregu- 
lar excavation lit with a single candle, and sitting in 
this, dressed, or, more correctly, undressed, like 
miners at their work, were Dick Haddon and Ted 
McKnight. 

J acker threw his bundle on the floor of the drive. 

‘ Crib,’ he said carelessly; and then, after examin- 
ing the face of the excavation : ‘ S’ pose we ain’t likely 
to cut the lode this shift, Dick ? ’ 


36 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


Dick shook his head thoughtfully. 

‘Ho,’ he said. ‘Allowin’ for the underlay, we 
should strike her about fifteen feet in.’ 

Tlie other boys had now joined their mates. Each 
on his way down had gravely followed the example of 
Jacker, who was supposed to be the boss of the incom- 
ing shift. As the fathers labour their sons play, and for 
months these boys had been digging in this old mine, 
off and on, with enthralling mystery. The excava- 
tion in which Dick and Ted w^ere seated represented 
the joint labour of the members of the Mount of Gold 
Quartz-mining Company, though the very existence 
of the mine was unknown to a single soul outside the 
juvenile syndicate. 

On the surface all signs of the shaft had long since 
been obliterated. The quarrymen blasting into the 
side of the hill years back had made a small opening 
into the disused pit at some distance from the top, and 
this opening was accidentally discovered by Dick and 
Jacker one day during a hunt for a wounded rabbit. 
Investigation proved the mine to be of no great depth ^ 
and, thanks to the pumps of the Silver Stream, as dry 
as a bone. A company of reliable small boys was 
formed with exceeding caution and a fine observ- 
ance of rule and precedent; for Dick Haddon did 
nothing by halves, and forgot nothing that might 
give an air of reality to the creations of his exuberant 
fancy. 

The original intention of the Mount of Gold Quartz- 
mining Company was to strike a reef five yards wide, 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


37 


composed entirely of gold, and to overwhelm its vari- 
ous parents with contrition on account of past lam- 
bastings by making them suddenly rich beyond the 
dreams of Oriental avarice. Time had served to dim 
the ardour of its hopes in this direction ; but the mine 
was still an enticing enterprise when exciting novelties 
in the way of adventure were wanting, and would 
always be a hiding-place in which a youthful fugitive 
from injustice might defy all authority so long as the 
members of the Company remained true to their oath. 
Now that oath was quite the most solemn and impres- 
sive thing of the kind that Dick Haddon and Phil 
Doon had been able to discover after consulting the 
highest literary authorities. 

The quarrel between Dick and Jacker McKnight 
that originated under the school was quite forgotten in 
the resulting excitement. It was a mere incident in 
any case, and would have made no material difference 
in their friendship. It had not kept Jacker from 
visiting the Mount of Gold on the same night with in- 
formation and supplies, and now the boy was cheer- 
fully unconscious of the black eye that still ornamented 
his broad visage. There were two well-worn shovels 
and a miner’s pick in the drive. Jacker seized the 
pick. 

‘ Might as well put in a bit of work, ’ he said. 

‘ Hold hard, ’ replied Dick, ‘ Smoke-ho, old man. 
What’s goin’ on on top ? ’ 

‘Whips! They had a meetin’ about youse last 
night — Jo, an’ Rogers, an’ my dad, an’ ole Tinribs, 


38 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


an’ the rest. They’re all after you. You’re fairly 
in fer it. ’ 

Dick’s face became radiant with magnificent ideas. 

‘ What! You don’t mean they’re goin’ t’ form a 
band t’ capture us ? ’ 

^Well, they sorter agreed about somethin’ like 
that.’ 

^ My word, that’s into our hands, ain’t it ? Lemme 
see, we must be a band of bushrangers what’s robbed 
the gold escort an’ the mounted p’lice’re huntin’ us 
in the ranges. I’ll be — yes. I’ll be Morgan. An’ 

Ted ! What’ll we make Ted ? I know — I know. 

He’ll be my faithful black boy, what’ll rather die 
than leave me. You fellers bring a cork to-morrow, 
an’ we’ll pretty quick make a faithful black boy of 
Twitter.’ 

All eyes were turned upon Ted, who did not seem 
in the least impressed by the magnificent prospect. 
Indeed, the faithful native was palpably out of sorts ; 
he took no part in the enthusiasm of his mates, his 
face was pale, and funk was legible in the diffident 
eye he turned upon the company. Dick noted this 
and put in an artful touch or two. 

^ Jacky-Jacky, the faithful black boy,’ he said; 
‘ brave as a lion, an’ the best shot in the world — 
better’ n me ! ’ 

The ruse was not successful. Ted failed to respond. 

‘ Twitter don’t seem to want to be no black boy,’ 
said Phil. 

‘ I’ll be Jacky-Jacky,’ volunteered Peterson eagerly. 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


39 


Peterson was a stolid youth with a face like a wooden 
doll; absolutely reliable since he was as stubborn 
under adult rule as a whole team of unbroken bul- 
locks, and quite reckless of consequences for the reason 
that he never anticipated them. Peterson would have 
made a most successful Jacky-Jacky, but his sugges- 
tion was overlooked in the general concern inspired by 
Ted’s conduct. 

Feeling the eyes of the party upon him, Ted grew 
more uneasy, the corners of his mouth drew down, 
one finger went up slowly, and Twitter began to snivel. 

‘ I — I — w — wa — want to go home,’ he said. 

The mates looked at each other in amazement. 
Ted was little, but his pluck had been tried on many 
occasions, and this was a great surprise. 

^ Well, he’s on’y a kiddy,’ said Phil pityingly, and 
with the superiority two years may confer. 

Dick found the three were looking to him for an 
explanation. 

‘Ted’s real scared,’ he said. ‘We made a dis- 
covery this afternoon — in there.’ 

‘In the big drive?’ asked Jacker. The others 
looked startled. 

Dick nodded, and took up the candle. ‘ Come an’ 
see,’ he said. 

Dick led the way along the opposite drive, and his 
mates followed, not too eagerly, Ted bringing up the 
rear. The drive was about eighty feet in extent. 
Having reached the end, Dick held the candle low, 
and made visible to his wondering mates a black 


40 


THE GOLD-STEALEKS. 


cavity about eighteen inches in diameter in one corner 
near the floor. 

‘ We were workin’ in here a bit for a change this 
afternoon after Peetree hunted us, an’ I broke 
through.’ 

‘ What’s in there? ’ asked Jacker in an awed voice. 

^ Look,’ said Dick. 

Jacker backed away; the other three kept a 
respectful distance and stared silently. 

‘It’s on’y another drive,’ Dick explained. ‘It 
must come from the Red Hand, I think.’ 

Dick was quite undisturbed, but the others were 
afraid, and even when they had returned to their 
own drive cast many doubting glances back into tlie 
darkness. In the mine as they had known it before 
everything was definite, and there was nothing of 
which a boy of spirit need be afraid. The shaft was 
choked with dirt a few feet below their landing- 
planks, and there was no spot in which a mystery 
might lurk ; but it was very different now with that 
black hole leading Heaven knew into what awesome 
depths, harbouring goodness knew what horrors. 
Ted’s defection had suddenly become the sentiment 
of the majority. At that moment Dick could have 
counted on Peterson alone had need arisen. 

‘ We’ll go down there an’ explore them workin’s,’ 
said Dick, having lit a piece of dry root and com- 
posed himself for a smoke. 

‘In the daytime, Morgan,’ said Jacker hastily and 
with diffidence. 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


41 


‘All right; but it don’t make no difference down 
here, you know. ’ 

Jacker thought it did, for although it was always 
night in the drives, the consciousness that the earth 
above was flooded with sunlight was a great heartener. 

‘ Don’t you think you’d best give this up for once 
— this bushranger game ? ’ ventured Jacker. 

‘Why?’ Dick’s eyes were round with surprise. 

‘ Oh, well, Twitter’s jack of it, an’ I don’t think 
it’s much fun.’ Jacker had assumed a careless air. 
‘ See here, Dick, ’ he continued smartly, ‘ the Cow Flat 
chaps made a raid last night, an’ took Butts an’ three 
others — mine among ’em.’ 

This was an important matter. Butts was Dick’s 
big grey billygoat, the best goat in harness the boys 
had ever known or ever heard of ; and the ‘ Cow Flat 
chaps’ were the boys of a small centre about two 
miles and a half further down the creek, between 
whom and the boys of Waddy there existed an inter- 
minable feud that led them to fight on sight, and 
steal such of each other’s possessions as could be 
easily and expeditiously removed. Dick’s excitement 
soon evaporated; evidently root smoking was con- 
ducive to a philosophical frame of mind. 

‘We’ll get them back all right — after,’ he said. 

‘They’ll work Butts to a shadder,’ Jacker re- 
marked insinuatingly. 

‘ Then we’ll go down some night, an’ strip Amson’s 
garden.’ Amson was a prominent resident of Cow 
Flat, and had nothing whatever to do with the goat 


42 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


raid, but the boyish sense of justice does not stoop to 
find distinctions. 

Jacker Mack had another string to his bow. 
‘They say Harry Hardy’s cornin’ home this week,’ 
he said. 

‘ No ! ’ cried Dick, much moved. ‘ Who says ? ’ 

‘ Gable says. ’ 

‘ Pooh ! Gable’s a kid. ’ 

‘ No matter, it’s true. Mrs. Hardy had a letter, 
’n Harry’s coming down with cattle.’ 

‘ Gosh! he’ll make it hot for Tinribs, I bet.’ 

Waddy had been waiting for Harry Hardy to come 
home, confident that he would do something of an 
exciting character to the disadvantage of those persons 
who had been instrumental in sending his brother 
Frank to gaol. Harry was much the younger of the 
two brothers; for some years he had been away 
droving, and the news of his brother’s misfortune 
was bringing him home from a Queensland station. 
The township thought, too, there would be a score 
to wipe out on his mother’s account, and the return 
was looked for as an important public event. 

Dick pondered over the situation for a moment. 
It would never do to miss any entertainment that 
might result from Harry’s return, and yet there was 
J oel Ham still to be reckoned with. 

‘ I think we’d better wait,’ he said. ‘ You fellows 
can let on as soon’s he arrives.’ 

Ted’s face fell again, and Jacker moved uneasily. 
He was anxious to be out of the mine and away from 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


43 


the uncanny possibilities of that dark chasm, and yet 
it was absolutely necessary that he should show no 
sign of funk, leave no opening for the tongue of deri- 
sion. Some day, perhaps, when the full strength of 
the company was available and candles were numer- 
ous, he would follow Dick’s lead in the work of 
exploration, but for the present his whole desire was 
to get to the surface. Now recollection came, and 
with it hope. Diving into his breast pocket, he drew 
forth a soiled and crumpled envelope, and handed it 
to Dick. 

‘ A letter, ’ he said, ‘ from your mother. ’ 

Dick was surprised; as he took the note Jacker 
discovered an accusation in his eye. 

‘The oath don’t say nothin’ agin’ letters,’ said 
McKnight sullenly. 

‘ No,’ answered his mate, ‘ but really miners ain’t 
supposed to have mothers runnin’ after ’em, like if 
they were kids. ’ 

‘Well,’ said the other, on the defensive, ‘your 
mother comes to me at dinner time, an’ she says: “ I 
s’pose ’taint likely you’ll see my Dick, Jacker.” I 
said, “ No, Missus Haddon, ’taint, s’elp me.” Then 
she says, “ Well, if he should come to see you, will 
you give him this? ” So I took it, an’ there you are.’ 

Dick read the letter slowly; it was a very artful 
letter, most pathetic, and sprinkled with drops which 
might have been tears. The writer spoke despond- 
ingly of her loneliness and her desolation, and the 
fears she endured when by herself in the house at night, 


44 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


knowing there was a camp of blacks in the corner 
paddock, and so many rough cattlemen about. She 
was entirely helpless since her only protector had 
deserted her, and she supposed that it only remained 
for her to be resigned to her fate. She signed her- 
self, ‘ Your forsaken and sorrow-stricken mother.’ 

When Dick had finished reading he started to put 
on his clothes. 

‘ What’s up, Morgan? ’ asked Phil. 

‘ Knock off ! ’ was the brief reply. 

‘ But what yer goin’ to do? ’ 

‘I’m goin’ home.’ 

‘ Home ! ’ cried Peterson. ‘ Why? ’ 

‘ Because ! ’ 

Dick had the instincts of a leader ; he demanded 
reasons for everything, but gave none. 

Before the lads parted that night young Haddon 
proffered Ted McKnight excellent advice. 

‘Your dad’s night shift, ain’t he?’ he said. 
‘ Well, don’t you go in till near twelve. He’ll be 
gone to work then, an’ when he comes off in the 
mornin’ he’ll be too tired to lick you much.' This, 
from an orphan with practically no experience of 
paternal rule, argued a fine intuition. 


CHAPTEE V. 


Dick Haddok did not enter his home immediately 
after parting with his mates. Mrs. Haddon’s little 
cottage, four roomed, with a queer skillion front, was 
surrounded by a tumbled mass of tangled vegetation 
miscalled a garden, and Dick loitered in the shadow 
of the back fence to consider what manner of entrance 
would be most politic. He was shrewdly aware that 
his mother might be tempted to make an attack on 
the impulse of the moment, her most pathetic letter 
notwithstanding, and it was a point of honour with 
him to offer no resistance and make no evasion when 
Mrs. Haddon felt called upon to administer corporal 
punishment. To be sure the maternal beatings occa- 
sioned very little physical inconvenience; but they 
gave rise to much unpleasantness, and were to be 
avoided when possible. 

As it happened, Dick was not put to the necessity 
of making a choice to-night. In the midst of his 
cogitations he felt himself seized from behind in a pair 
of long, strong arms. With the quick instinct of a 
wrongdoer he suspected evil, and kicked sharply back- 
ward at the shins of the enemy. 


45 


46 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


‘ Le’ go! You le’ me go, see! ’ gasped the boy, 
struggling and fighting fiercely. 

Resistance was quite useless. Dick was dragged 
through the gate, and up to the house. The door 
was opened, and he was bundled unceremoniously into 
the kitchen. Then Ephraim Shine — for it was the 
superintendent who had fallen upon Dick in the dark- 
ness — thrust his sparsely -whiskered, leathery face into 
the well-lighted room, and said shortly : 

^ Your boy, ma’am!’ 

Shine withdrew instantly, closing the door noise- 
lessly after him, and left Dick flushed and furious. 

^ He didn’t take me,’ he cried. ‘I was cornin’ 
home, an’ he grabbed me just outside there — the 
beast! ’ 

Dick stopped short, suddenly conscious of the pres- 
ence of visitors. Mrs. Hardy was sitting opposite his 
mother by the wide fireplace — the tall, white-haired 
gentlewoman in whose society he always felt himself 
transformed suddenly into a sort of saintly fellowship 
with the remarkably gentlemanly little boys whose ac- 
quaintance he made in the books provided by the 
chapel library. At the table sat Gable, the grey, 
chubby-faced third-class scholar whom Joel Ham had 
forgiven because of his extreme youth. The old man 
had a circular slab of bread and jam in his left hand, 
and was grinning fraternally at Dick. There was a 
third visitor, a stranger, a brown-haired, brown- 
skinned, bony young man, dressed after the manner of 
a drover. He had a small moustache, and a grave. 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


47 


taking face. He looked like a bushranger, Dick 
thought admiringly. 

^ This is Richard, Henry,’ said Mrs. Hardy. 

^You don’t know me, eh, Coppertop? ’ said the 
young man, taking the boy’s hand. 

^ Harry Hardy,’ said Dick at random. 

^ Well, that’s a good enough guess, young fellow 
my lad.’ 

Dick fell back quietly. It was, he felt, a moment 
when an air of sadness and a retiring disposition would 
be likely to be most becoming in him — and most 
effective. He declined his mother’s invitation to sup- 
per with such meekness that the little v/ornan found it 
difficult to hide her concern. Could she have peeped 
into the drive of the Mount of Gold, where was scrap- 
food enough to victual a small regiment, not to men- 
tion pillage from Wilson’s orchard, she might have 
been more at her ease — or have found fresh occasion 
for uneasiness. Dick had none of his mother’s apple- 
like roundness — the widow, who was not yet thirty- 
five, always suggested apples and roses — he had in- 
herited his father’s fiame-coloured hair, and a pale 
complexion that was very effective in turning away 
maternal wrath when allied with an appearance of 
pensive melancholy and a fictitious pain in the 
chest. 

The conversation, which had been interrupted by 
Dick’s entrance, was presently resumed. The women 
were recounting the story of Frank Hardy’s arrest 
and trial for Harry’s information. The subject was 


48 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


one of profound interest to Dick, and from his retreat 
at the far end of the table, where he sat disregarded, 
his crimes tacitly ignored for the time being, he 
listened eagerly. When Gable kicked him to attract 
his attention, and gleefully exhibited a handful of loaf 
sugar that he had slyly abstracted from the basin, the 
small boy frowned the old man down with a diaboli- 
cal scowl. 

Gable was Mrs. Hardy’s brother, and although 
over sixty years of age, his mind had remained the 
mind of a child ; mentally, he never grew beyond his 
eighth year. He was a child in all his ways and 
wishes, was happiest in the society of children, and 
was regarded by them, without question and without 
surprise, as one of themselves. He was sent to school 
because it pleased him to go, and it kept him out of 
mischief, and every day he learned over again the 
lessons he had learned the day before and forgotten 
within an hour. His admiration for Dick Haddon 
was profound, the respect and appreciation the boy of 
eight has for the big brother who is twelve and 
smokes. 

Abashed by Dick’s frown, the old man devoted 
himself humbly to his ^ piece, ’ and the boy gave his 
whole attention to the conversation. He was eager 
to get an inkling of Harry’s line of action. For his 
own part he had thought of a desperate band, with 
Harry at its head and himself in a conspicuous posi- 
tion, raiding the gaol at Yarraman under a hail of 
bullets, and bearing oJS the prisoner in triumph ; but 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


49 


experience had taught him that the expedients of 
grown-up people were apt to be disgustingly common- 
place and ludicrously ineffective. 

^ If he’d an enemy,’ said Harry, ‘ there’ d be some- 
thing to go on. Was there nobody, no one at all, 
that he’d had any row with — nobody who hated him?’ 

Mrs. Haddon shook her head. 

‘ISTobody,’ she said. ^ But he declared the real 
thieves had done it, either to shift suspicion or to be 
rid of him. He thought it a disgrace that all the 
men at the Stream should be marked as probable 
thieves because of one or two rogues; an’ he was 
always eager to spot the real robbers. It was known 
gold-stealin’ had been goin’ on for some time. Tliat’s 
why they put on tlie searcher. ’ 

‘ Shine. Mightn’t he have had a finger in it? ’ 

‘ Ho, no. It doesn’t seem likely. Why should 
he?’ 

‘ I can’t say. God knows! But there is some- 
body. If I only knew the man — if I only had him 
under my hand ! ’ 

Harry’ s face became grey through the tan ; he sat 
forward in his chair, with a sinewy arm thrust down 
between his knees, and his hand closed as if upon a 
throat. His mother touched his shoulder. 

‘ Violence can only work mischief, my boy. Use 
what intelligence you have — only that can help. If 
we can save poor Frank and clear his name, we may 
leave vengeance to the law. ’ 

‘ Yes, mother, you are right, but I am no saint, I 


50 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


hate my enemies, an’ it is maddening not to know 
who you hate — who to hit at. ’ 

‘ That may be so, Henry, but passion will only 
blind you. If you are not cool you will fail. Re- 
member, the true culprits may be near you while you 
are seeking; do nothing to set them on their guard. 
You may learn much from the men. They are all 
Frank’s friends, even those who believe him guilty.’ 

‘ Believe him guilty ! ’ 

^ O, my boy, my boy ! You would want to fight them 
all. It is folly. The evidence did not leave room 
for a doubt as to his guilt, and these men have their 
own ideas as to the morality of such crimes. Many 
of them think none the worse of a man who helps 
himself to a nugget that he may find on his shovel. ’ 

‘ An’ you are the mother of a thief, I am a thief’s 
brother; Frank is a convict, an’ we must grin an’ 
gammon we like it ! ’ 

^ We must be discreet, we must be cunning, if we 
wish to prove we are no thieves and no kin to 
thieves.’ 

‘ Right you are, mother — always right. ’ The 
young man spread his rough, brown hand caressingly 
upon the small hand upon his knee. ‘ My fist always 
moves before my head, but I know your way is best, 
an’ I don’t mean to forget it.’ 

‘ Ephraim Shine seemed to be tryin’ to do his best 
for Frank at the trial,’ said Mrs. Haddon. ‘ I think 
he’s a well-meanin’ man, if he is a bit near an’ peculiar 
in his ways. He always says it was his duty he did, 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


51 


an’ that’s true. We know Frank’s not guilty, because 
— because we’re fond of him’ — here the little widow 
wiped her eyes, and her voice trembled — ^ an’ know 
him better than others, but the case was black against 
him. Frank came straight up from below and into 
the searcher’s shed, an’ Shine found the gold in his 
crib bag, which was rolled up, an’ forced under the 
handle of his billy. ’ 

^ Where it’d been for half the shift, the billy hang- 
ing in a dark drive where any man below might ’a 
’got at it.’ 

^ They found gold in a little box-place made in the 
heel of one of his workin’ boots. ’ 

^ A boot that was always left in the boiler-house 
when he was off work. ’ 

‘ He had sold coarse water- worn gold to a Jew at 
Yarraman.’ 

‘ Yes, I know, I know. Got, he said, fossicking 
down the creek where nobody had ever won anything 
but fine gold before. Whoever put that gold in his 
crib bag an’ faked his boot-heel salted Frank’s pud- 
dling-tub. It was easy done. He on’y worked there 
now’n again when on night or afternoon shift, an’ it 
was open to anyone. It was salted with Silver Stream 
gold by some double-damned cunning scoundrel.’ 

‘ We know it, Harry, and we have to prove it. To 
do that we must have all our wits about us. ’ 

‘ Yes, mother, we must ; but if that man ever is 
found I hope I may have the handling of him. Dick ! ’ 
said the young man, turning suddenly. 


52 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


Dick came forward somewhat diffidently, like a 
detected criminal. 

‘ You know all about this business, eh? ’ 

The boy nodded his head solemnly. 

‘ Who do you think worked that dirty trick on my 
brother? ’ asked Harry gravely. 

Dick had not thought of the matter in that light, 
but he answered, without hesitation : 

‘ Ole Tinribs, I expect.’ 

‘ Dickie ! ' cried Mrs. Haddon, reprovingly. 

‘ Why, why, Dick? ’ queried the young man. 

‘ Oh, I dunno; on’y he seems that sort, don’t he? ' 

Dick had been subjected to a grave indignity at the 
hands of the superintendent, and was not in a frame 
of mind to form a just estimate of the character of 
that good man. He spoke with the cheerful irre- 
sponsibility of youth. 

^ I’m afraid you won’t be much good to us, Copper- 
top, old man, if you rush at conclusions in that des- 
perate way,’ said Harry. 

Mrs. Hardy shook an impressive forefinger at the 
boy. 

‘ You will say nothing to anybody of our intentions, 
Richard.’ 

^ Ho, ’ said Dick simply ; but that word given to 
Mrs. Hardy was a sacred oath, steel-bound and 
clamped. 


CHAPTEE VI. 


The school -ground next morning at nine o’clock 
showed little of its usual activity. Most of the boys 
were gathered near Sam Brierly’s Gothic portico, now 
in unpicturesque ruins and hanging limply to the 
school front like an excrescence. Here Eichard Had- 
don and Edward McKnight were standing in attitudes 
of extreme unconcern, heroes and objects of respectful 
admiration, but nevertheless inwardly ill at ease and 
possessed with sore misgivings. Some of their mates 
were offering sage advice on a matter that concerned 
them most nearly : how to take cuts from a cane so as 
to receive the least possible amount of hurt. Peterson 
was full of valuable information. 

‘ See, you stan’ so,’ he said, giving rather a good 
imitation of an unhappy scholar in the act of receiving 
condign punishment, ‘ holdin’ yer hand like this, you 
know, keepin’ yer eye on Jo; an’ jes’ when his nibs 
comes down you shoves yer hand forwards, that sort, 
an’ it don’t hurt fer sour apples.’ 

‘ Don’t cut no more’n nothin’ at all,’ added the boy 
who was called Moonlight, in cheerful corroboration. 

Ted, who was very pale, and had a hunted look in 

53 


54 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


his eyes, nodded his head hopefully, and rehearsed the 
act with pathetic gravity. 

The little girls, who should have been at the other 
end of the ground, clustered at the corner and peeped 
round the portico, some giggling, others fully seized 
of the gravity of the situation. Dick in spite of his 
fine air of sangfroid was well aware that there was one 
little girl there, a pretty little girl of about ten, with 
brown hair and dark serious eyes, who was suffering 
keenest apprehensions on his behalf, and who would 
weep with quite shameless abandonment when it came 
to his turn to endure the torments Mr. Joel Ham knew 
so well how to inflict. Dick was rather superior to 
little girls ; his tender sentiment was usually lavished 
on ladies ten or twelve years his senior ; but he could 
not hide from himself the fact that Kitty Grey’s 
affection, however hopeless it might be, was at times 
most gratifying. Once he had resented its manifesta- 
tions with bitterness, imagining that they were likely 
to bring him into contempt and undermine his 
authority ; and when she interfered in his memorable 
fight with Bill Cole and fiercely attacked his opponent 
with a picket, cutting his head and incapacitating him 
for fighting for the rest of the day, he felt that he 
could never forgive her. She had violated the rule of 
battle and outraged the noble principle of fair play ; 
and, worse and worse, had disgraced him in the eyes of 
the world by making him appear as a weakling seeking 
protection behind a despised petticoat. He reviled 
Kitty for that action in such overwhelming language 


THE GOLD-STEALEKS. 55 

that the poor girl fled in tears, and next day it was 
only with the greatest diflScnlty that she persuaded 
him to accept two pears and a blood-alley as a peace 
offering. 

Dolf Belman came later with a little comfort. 

‘Gotter junk o’ rosum,’ he said, fumbling in his 
school-bag. 

^Hoo! have you though?’ said Parrot Gann. 
^ Rosum’s great. Put some on my hand onst when I 
went to ole Pepper’s school at Yarraman, an’ near 
died laughin’ when he gave me twenty cuts fer copy- 
in’ me sums.’ 

The boys clustered about Dolf, who produced a 
piece of resin about the size of a hen’s egg, and 
waved it triumphantly. 

' You pound it up wif a rock,’ said he confidently, 

^ an’ rub it on yer hands. ’ 

The pounding process was begun at once, amidst 
a babel of opinions. It was a fond illusion amongst 
the boys that resin so applied deadened the effects of 
the cane. It had been tried scores of times without 
in the least mitigating the agony of Ham’s cuts, but 
the faith of youth is not easily shaken; so Ted’s 
spirits revived wonderfully, and Dick developed a 
keen interest in the pounding. Dolf pulverised the 
‘ rosum, ’ declaring that it should be powdered in one 
particular way which was a great secret known only 
to a happy few. If it were powdered in any other 
way, the resin lost its efficacy as a protection, and 
might even aggravate the pain. Several boys vol- 


56 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


unteered testimony in support of Dolf’s claim, telling 
of the strange immunity they had enjoyed on various 
occasions after applying the resin, and Peter Queen 
distinctly remembered ^ a feller up to Clunes ’ who, 
by a judicious use of the powder, was enabled to defy 
all authority and preserve an attitude of hilarious de- 
rision under the most awful tortures. 

^ This here cove he useter have hisself rubbed all 
over wif rosum every mornin’, then he’d go to 
school an’ kick up ole boots. What’d he care? My 
word, he was a terror ! ’ 

Dolf took up the theme, and enlarged upon the 
virtues of resin, particularly that resin of his, which 
was the very best kind of resin for the purpose and 
had been specially commended by an old swaggie with 
one eye, who gave it to him for a four-bladed knife 
and a clay pipe. So great was the effect of these 
representations that before Dick and Ted had trans- 
ferred the powder to their pockets they had become 
objects of envy rather than commiseration, and one 
or two of their mates would gladly have changed 
places with them on the spot. 

^Wouldn’t care if I was in fer it, ’stead o’ you, 
Dick,’ said Peterson. ‘ Mus’ be an awful lark to 
have Hamlet layin’ it on, an’ you not feelin’ it all 
the time.’ 

‘My oath! ’ said Jacker Mack feelingly. 

‘ Good morning, boys. ’ 

Joel Ham, B.A., had stolen in amongst them, and 
stood there in an odd crow-like attitude, his mottled 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


57 


face screwed into an expression of quizzical amia- 
bility, and his daily bottle sticking obtrusively from 
the inside lining of his old coat. The lads scattered 
sheepishly. 

‘ Peterson,’ he said, blinking his pale lashes a dozen 
times in rapid succession, ^ the boy who thinks he can 
outwit his dear master is an egotist, and egotism, 
Peterson, is the thing which keeps us from profiting 
by the experiences of other fools.’ 

‘ I dunno what yer talkin’ about,’ answered Peter- 
son, with heavy resentment. 

Mr. Ham blinked again for nearly half a minute. 

‘Of course not,’ he said, ‘of course not, my 
boy.’ Then he turned to Dick and Ted with quiet 
courtesy. ‘ Good morning, Eichard. Good morn- 
ing, Edward.’ 

Ted, who was painfully conscious of the large ink- 
splashes on the master’s white trousers, kicked awk- 
wardly at a buried stone, but Dick replied cheerily 
enough. 

The attitude of the master throughout that morn- 
ing was quite inexplicable to the scholars ; he made 
no allusion whatever to the crimes of which Dick and 
Ted had been guilty, and gave no hint that he 
harboured any intentions that were not entirely gen- 
erous and friendly. The two culprits, working with 
quite astounding assiduity, were beset with confiicting 
emotions. Dick, who had a vague sort of insight 
into the master’s character, was prepared for the 
worst, and yet not blind to the possibility of a free 


68 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


pardon. Ted, after the first hour, was joyous and 
over-confident. 

Mr. Peterson called during the morning and con- 
ferred with Joel for a few minutes. The gaping 
school knew what that meant, and awaited the out- 
come with tlie most anxious interest. Mr. Peterson, 
a six-foot Dane, an engine-driver at the Stream, and 
Billy’s father, was volunteering for service in case 
Mr. Ham should need assistance in dealing with the 
two culprits; but Joel sent him away, and the boys 
breathed freely again. Their confidence in Dolf’s 
‘ rosum ’ did not leave them quite blind to the ad- 
vantages of an amicable settlement of their little dif- 
ference with Mr. Ham. 

It was not until the boys were marching out for the 
dinner hour, satisfied at last all was well, that Joel 
seemed suddenly to recollect, and he called after Ted, 
blighting the poor youth’s new-born happiness and 
filling his small soul with a great apprehension. 

^ Teddy,’ he called, ‘ you will remain, my boy. I 
have private business with you — private and confiden- 
tial, Teddy.’ 

So Ted fell out and stood by the wall, a very mon- 
ument of dejection. 

When school met again the scholars noted that the 
ink- stains had been carefully washed and scraped 
from the wall and the fioor, and they found Ted 
McKnight sprawling in his place, his head buried in 
his arms, dumb and unapproachable. If a mate came 
too close, moved by curiosity or a desire to ofler sym- 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


59 


pathy, Ted lashed out at him with his heels. For the 
time being he was a small hut cankered misanthrope 
full of vengeful schemes, and only one person in the 
whole school envied him. That person was E-ichard 
Haddon, whose turn was yet to come. 

An hour passed and Dick had received no hint of 
the trouble in store. Then Joel Ham, prowling 
along the desks, inspecting a task, stopped before the 
boy and stood eyeing him with the curiosity with 
which an entomologist might regard a rare grub, 
clawing his thin whiskers the while. The interest he 
felt was apparently of the most friendly descrip- 
tion. 

^ Ah, Ginger,’ he said, ‘ I had almost forgotten that 
I am still your debtor. This way. Ginger, please. ’ 

He stood Dick on his high stool, carefully tied the 
boy’s ankles with a strap, and gave him a large slate, 
on which his faults were emblazoned in chalk, to hold 
up for the inspection of the classes ; and so he left 
him for the remainder of the afternoon, every now 
and again pausing in his vicinity to deliver some in- 
comprehensible sentiment or a sarcastic homily. This 
performance afiEected all the scholars, but it excited 
Gable so much that the little old man could do 
nothing but sit and stare at Dick with round eyes and 
open mouth, and mutter ‘ Oh, crickie ! ’ in a fright- 
ened way. The little dark-eyed girl in the Third 
Class bore the ordeal badly, too, and every speech of 
the master’s started a large tear rolling down her 
dimpled brown cheek. 


60 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


When the rest of the youngsters inarched out, Dick 
Haddon remained on his high perch. Kitty Grey, 
who brought up the tail of the procession, turned at 
the door and walked back to the master timorously 
and with downcast eyes ; and Dick felt that a plea 
was to be made on his behalf, but could not hear what 
followed. 

‘ Please, sir, if you won’t cane him very much I’ll 
give you this,’ said Kitty. 

The bribe was a small brooch that had originally 
contained the letters of the little girl’s first name. It 
was a very cheap brooch when new, and now some of 
the letters were gone and the gilt was worn off, but it 
was still a priceless treasure in Kitty’s eyes. Joel 
Ham examined the gift, and then looked down upon 
the petitioner, his face pulled sideways into its famil- 
iar withered grin. 

‘ Do you know this is bribery, little Miss Grey,’ 
he said, ‘ bribery and corruption ? ’ 

‘ Ye-es, please, sir,’ said Kitty. 

‘ And do you know that that fellow up there is a 
monster of infamy, a rebel and a riotous blackguard, 
who must be repressed in the interests of peace and 
good government? ’ 

‘Yes, please, sir; but — but he’s only a little fel- 
low.’ The master’s tremendous words seemed to call 
for this reminder. 

Joel screwed his grin down another wrinkle or 
two. 

‘ Yet you intercede for the ruffian, try to buy him 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


61 


off, and at a valuation, too, that proves you to 
be deaf to the voice of reason and utterly improvi- 
dent.’ 

‘ Oh, Mr. Ham, he didn’t mean it — really, he 
didn’t mean it ! ’ 

Joel screwed out another wrinkle. His mirth al- 
ways increased wrinkle by wrinkle, until at times it 
appeared as if he were actually going to screw his own 
neck by sheer force of repressed hilarity. 

‘ I am incorruptible, Miss Grey,’ he said. ^ Take 
back your precious jewel ; but I promise you this, my 
dear, our friend Dick shall not get as much as he de- 
serves. Boys are like some metals. Miss Kitty, their 
temper is improved by hammering. ’ 

Kitty left the master, entirely in the dark as to the 
effect of her intercession ; but evidently it was not of 
much advantage to Dick. When the boy came from 
the school about half an hour later, he carried his chin 
high, his lips were compressed tightly, and he stared 
straight ahead. Three faithful friends who had waited 
to know the worst joined him, but no words were 
spoken. They followed at his heels, showing by their 
silence due respect for a profound emotion. Dick 
did not make for home ; he turned off to the right and 
led the way down into one of the large quarries on 
the flat, and there turned a flushed face and a pair of 
flashing eyes upon his mates. 

‘ I’m going to have it out of Ham,’ he said. ‘I 
don’t care! He’s a dog, and he ain’t goin’ to do as 
he likes with me* ’ 


62 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


‘ How many, Dick? ’ asked Ted eagerly. 

‘ Dunno, ’ said Dick, exposing his hands ; ‘ he 
jus’ cut away till he was tired, chi-ikin’ me all the 
time. But I’ll get even, you see!’ 

Dick’s palms were very puffy; there were a couple 
of blue blisters on his fingers, and across each wrist 
an angry-looking white wheal. The boys were suffi- 
ciently impressed, and, in spite of his wrath against 
Joel Ham, Dicky could not resist a certain gratifica- 
tion on that account. Boys take much pride in the 
sufferings they have borne, and their scars are always 
exhibited with a grave conceit. Ted displayed his 
hands, still betraying evidence of the morning’s can- 
ing, and Jacker Mack spoke feelingly of stripes and 
bruises remaining since Tuesday. Peterson was the 
only one quite free from mark or brand of the mas- 
ter’s, and he recollected many thrashings with extreme 
bitterness, and was quite in sympathy with the party. 

^"What say if we give him a scare?’ said Dick. 
‘ Are you on ? ’ 

Jacker and Ted were dubious. It was too sudden ; 
their recent experiences had made them unusually re- 
spectful of the master. Dick marked the hesitation, 
and said scornfully : 

‘ Oh, you fellows needn’t be afraid. You won’t 
be let in for it. I know a trick that’s quite safe — 
bin thinkin’ about it all the afternoon.’ 

If Dick were quite sure it was safe, and if there 
were not the smallest possible chance of their com- 
plicity being disclosed, Jacker and Ted were quite 


THE GOLD-STEALEKS. 


63 


agreeable. Peterson was always agreeable for adven- 
ture, however absurd. Dick explained : 

^ Hamlet’s gone down to the ipuh. He’s sure to 
get screwed to-night. There’s a fool feller there 
from Mclnnes, knockin’ down a cheque an’ shoutin’ 
mad. Hamlet’ll get his share in spite of all, an’ he’ll 
be as tight as a brick by ten o’clock. You know my 
joey ’possum? Well, I’ll fix him up into the awfull- 
est kind of a blue devil, with feathers an’ things. 
We’ll push him into Jo’s room, and when Jo comes 
home an’ strikes a light he’ll spot him, an’ think he’s 
got delirious trimmens again. That’ll give him a 
shakin’.’ 

‘ My oath, won’t it!’ ejaculated Peterson. 

Jacker was elated, and grinned far and wide. 

‘ P’raps he’ll go nippin’ round, thinkin’ he’s 
chased by ’em like he did las’ Christmas holidays,’ 
suggested the elder McKnight gleefully. 

This villainous scheme was the result of the boys’ 
extraordinary familiarity with many phases of drunk- 
enness. Waddy was a pastoral as well as a mining 
centre, and strange ribald men came out of the bush 
at intervals to ^ melt ’ their savings at the Drovers’ 
Arms. The Yarraman sale-yards for cattle and 
sheep were near W addy too, and brought dusty drov- 
ers and droughty stockmen in crowds to the town- 
ship every Tuesday. These men were indiscreet and 
indiscriminate drinkers, and often a vagrant was left 
behind to finish a spree that surrounded him with un- 
heard-of reptiles and strange kaleidoscopic animals 


64 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


unknown to the zoologist. It must be admitted, too, 
that Joel Ham, B.A., was in a measure responsible 
for the boys’ unlawful knowledge. Twice at holiday 
times, when he was not restricted at the Drovers’ 
Arms, he had continued his libations until it was 
necessary for his own good and the peace of the place 
to tie him down in his bunk and set a guard over 
him ; and on one of these occasions he had created 
much excitement by rushing through the township at 
midnight, scantily clad, under the impression that he 
was being pursued by a tall dark gentleman in a red 
cloak and possessed of both horns and hoofs. 

It was nearly nine o’clock that night when the four 
conspirators met to carry out their nefarious project. 
Dick was carrying a bag — in which was the joey — a 
bull’s-eye lantern, various coloured feathers, and 
other small necessaries, and the party hastened in the 
direction of Mr. Ham’s humble residence. Ham was 
^ a hatter ’ — he lived alone in a secluded place on the 
other side of the quarries. The house was large for 
Waddy, and had once been a boarding-house, but 
was now little better than a ruin. The schoolmaster 
had reclaimed one room, furnished it much like a 
miner’s hut, with the addition of a long shelf of 
tattered books, and here he ‘ batched,’ perfectly con- 
tented with his lot for all that Waddy could ever dis- 
cover to the contrary. There was no other house 
within a quarter of a mile of the ruin, which was 
hemmed in with four rows of wattles, and surrounded 
by a wilderness of dead fruit-trees — victims to the 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


65 


ravages of the goats of the township — and a tangled 
scrub of Cape broom. The boys approached the 
house with quite unnecessary caution, keeping along 
the string of dry quarry-holes, and creeping towards 
the back door through the thick growth as warily as 
so many Indians on the trail. Dick Haddon cared 
nothing for an enterprise that had no flavour of mys- 
tery, and was wont to invest his most commonplace 
undertakings with a romantic significance. For the 
time being he was a wronged aboriginal king, leading 
the remnants of his tribe to wreak a deadly vengeance 
on the white usurper. A short conference was held 
in the garden. 

^ We’ll go into one o’ the old rooms, an’ fix the 
joey up there. Then we can wait till Hamlet comes, 
if youse fellows ’re game,’ said Dick softly. 

‘ I’m on,’ whispered Peterson. 

‘ He won’t be long, I bet. McKnight, ’r Belman, 
’r some o’ the others is sure to roust him out when 
he’s properly tight. Foller me.’ 

Dick led the way up to the door, pushed it open, 
and entered. The others were about to follow, but 
to their horror they saw a large figure start forward 
from the pitch darkness beyond, heard an oath and 
the sound of a blow, and saw Dick fall face down- 
wards upon the floor. Then the door was slammed 
from within, and the three terrorstricken boys turned 
and fled as fast as their legs would carry them. 

Dick lay upon the floor with outthrown arms, and 
the figure stood over him in a listening attitude. 


66 


THE GOLD-STEALEKS. 


^ Good God! ’ve you killed him? ’ cried someone 
in the far corner of the room. 

‘ Sh-h, you cursed fool ! ’ hissed the big man. 

‘ Who is it? ’ asked the other tremulously. 

The big man seized Dick, and dragged him to 
where the grey moonlight shone through a shattered 
window. 

‘ Young Haddon, ’ he said. ^ Blast the boy ! a man 
never knows where he will poke his nose next. ’ 

‘ The others ’ve gone? ’ 

^ Yes. They were on’y boys.’ 

‘ Didn’t I tell you it wouldn’t do to be meetin’ in 
places like this? No more of it fer me. They’ve 
been listenin’, an’ we’re done men. We’ll be 
nabbed 1 ’ 

‘Shut up your infernal cackle! The boys hadn’t 
any notion we was here. They had some lark on. 
They couldn’t have seen us — we’re all right.’ 

‘If they saw us together it’d be enough.’ 

‘ But they couldn’t, I tell you. Here, clear out, 
the boy’s cornin’ round. Go the front way, an’ make 
for the paddocks. I’ll go up the gully. Look 
slippy ! ’ 

A few seconds after the men had left the house 
Dick scrambled to his feet, and stood for a moment 
in a confused condition of mind, rubbing his injured 
head. Then he took up his hat and lantern, and 
stumbled from the room. As yet he had only a vague 
idea of what had happened, and his head felt very 
large and full of fly-wheels, as he expressed it later ; 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


67 


but a few moments in the open air served to revive 
him. Along by the big quarry he met his mates re- 
turning. After talking the matter over they had 
come to the conclusion that the schoolmaster had got 
a hint of their intention, and had lain in wait. They 
gathered about Dick, whose foreliead was most pic- 
turesquely bedabbled with blood. 

^Crikey! Dick,’ cried the wondering Jacker, ^ did 
he hammer you much? ’ 

‘Feel,’ said Dick, guiding one hand after another 
to a lump on his head that increased his height by 
quite an inch. 

‘ Great Gosh! ’ murmured Peterson; ‘ain’t he a 
one-er? The beggar must ’a’ tried to murder 
you.’ 

Dick nodded. 

‘ Yes,’ he said; ‘ but ’twasn’t Hamlet.’ 

‘ Go on ! ’ The boys looked back apprehensively. 

‘ Ho, ’twasn’t. ’Twas a big feller. I dunno who; 
but he must ’a’ bin a bushranger, ’r a feller what’s 
escaped from gaol, ’r someone. Did you coves see 
which way he went? ’ 

‘ Ho,’ said Ted fearfully; and a simultaneous move 
was made towards the township. The boys were not 
cowards, but they had plenty of discretion. 

‘Look here,’ Dick continued impressively; ‘no 
matter who ’twas, we’ve gotter keep dark, see. If 
we don’t it’ll be found out what we was all up to, an’ 
we’ll get more whack- o.’ 

The party was unanimous on this point ; and when 


68 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


Dick returned home he shocked his mother with a 
lively account of how he slipped in the quarry and 
fell a great depth, striking his head on a rock, and 
being saved from death only by the merest chance 
imaginable. 


CHAPTEE VII. 


The small, wooden Wesleyan chapel at Waddy was 
perched on an eminence at the end of the township 
furthest from the Drovers’ Arms. The chapel, ac- 
cording to the view of the zealous brethren who con- 
ducted it, represented all that counted for righteousness 
in the township, and the Drovers’ Arms the head cen- 
tre of the powers of evil. For verbal convenience in 
prayer and praise the hotel was known as ^ The Sink 
of Iniquity,’ and the chapel as ^ This Little Corner of 
the Vineyard ; ’ and through the front windows of the 
latter, one sabbath morn after another for many years, 
lusty Cornishmen, moved by the spirit, had hurled 
down upon McMahon and his house strident and 
terrible denunciations. 

Materially the chapel had nothing in common with 
a vineyard ; it was built upon arid land as bare and 
barren as a rock ; not even a blade of grass grew 
within a hundred yards of its doors. The grim plain- 
ness of the old drab building was relieved only by a 
rickety bell-tower so stuffed with sparrows’ nests that 
the bell within gave forth only a dull and muffled note. 
The chapel was surrounded with the framework of a 
fence only, so the chapel ground was the chief rendez- 


70 


THE GOLD-STEALEKS. 


vous of all the goats of Waddy — and they were many 
and various. They gathered in its shade in the sum- 
mer and sought its shelter from the biting blast in 
winter, not always content with an outside stand ; for 
the goats of Waddy were conscious of their impor- 
tance, and of a familiar and impudent breed. Some- 
times a matronly nanny would climb the steps, and 
march soberly up the aisle in the midst of one of 
Brother Tregaskis’s lengthy prayers; or a haughty 
billy, imposing as the he-goat of the Scriptures, would 
take his stand within the door and bay a deep, gut- 
tural response to Brother Spence ; or two or three kids 
would come tumbling over the forms and jumping 
and bucking in the open space by the wheezy and 
venerable organ, spirits of thoughtless frivolity in the 
sacred place. 

It was Sunday morning and the school was in. The 
classes were arranged in their accustomed order, the 
girls on the right, the boys on the left, against the 
walls ; down the middle of the chapel the forms were 
empty; nearest to the platform on either hand of 
Brother Ephraim Shine, the superintendent, were the 
Sixth Class little boys and girls, the latter painfully 
starched and still, with hair tortured by many de- 
vices into damp links or wispy spirals that passed by 
courtesy for curls. Very silent and submissive were 
little girls of Class VI., impressed by the long, lank 
superintendent in his Sunday black, and believing in 
many wonders secreted above the dusty rafters or in 
the wide yellow cupboards. The first classes were 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


n 

nearest tlie door. The young ladies, if we make rea- 
sonable allowance for an occasional natural preoccupa- 
tion induced by their consciousness of the proximity of 
the young men, were devoted students of the gospel 
as interpreted by Brother Tresize, and sufficiently 
saintly always, presuming that no disturbing element 
such as a new hat or an unfamiliar dress was intro- 
duced to awaken the critical spirit. The young men, 
looking in their Sunday clothes like awkward and 
tawdry imitations of their workaday selves, were in- 
structed by Brother Spence; and Brother Bowden, 
being the kindliest, gentlest, most incapable man of 
the band of brothers, was given the charge of the boys’ 
Second Class, a class of youthful heathen, rampageous, 
fightable, and flippant, who made the good man’s 
life a misery to him, and were at war with all authority. 
Peterson, Jacker Mack, Dolf Belman, Fred Cann, 
Phil Boon, and Dick Haddon, and a few kindred 
spirits composed this class ; and it was sheer lust of 
life, the wildness of bush-bred boys, that inspired them 
with their irreverent impishness, although the brethren 
professed to discover evidence of the direct influence 
of a personal devil. 

The superintendent arose from his stool of office and 
shuffled to the edge of the small platform, rattling his 
hymn-book for order. Ephraim never raised his head 
even in chapel, but his cold, dull eyes, under their 
scrub of overhanging brow, missed nothing that was 
going on, as the younger boys often discovered to their 
cost. 


72 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


‘ Dearly beloved brethren, we will open this morn- 
in’s service with that beautiful hymn ’ 

Brother Shine stopped short. A powerful diver- 
sion had been created by the entrance of a young man. 
The new-comer was dressed like a drover, wearing a 
black coat over his loose blue shirt, and he carried in 
his right hand a coiled stockwhip. His face had the 
grey tinge of wrath, and his lips were set firm on a 
grim determination. He walked to a form well up 
in front, and seated himself, placing his big felt hat 
on the floor, but retaining his grip on the whip hang- 
ing between his knees. 

Jacker Mack kicked Dick excitedly. ^ Harry 
Hardy ! ’ he said. 

Dick nodded but did not speak ; he was staring 
with all his eyes, as was every man, woman, and 
child in the congregation. Harry Hardy had not ful- 
filled expectations ; he had been home five days, and 
had done nothing to avenge his brother. He moved 
about amongst the men, but was reserved and grew 
every day more sullen. He had heard much and had 
answered nothing ; and now here he was at chapel and 
evidently bent on mischief, for the stockwhip was 
ominous. Ephraim Shine had noticed it and retreated 
a step or two, and stood for quite a minute, turning 
his boot this way and that, but with his eyes on Harry 
all the time. How he cleared his throat, and called 
the number of the hymn. He read the first verse and 
the chorus with his customary unction, and, all having 
risen, started the singing in a raspy, high-pitched voice. 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


'rs 

Harry Hardy stood with the rest, a solitary figure 
In the centre of the chapel, still holding the long whip 
firmly grasped in his right hand. Attention was 
riveted on him, and the singing of the hymn was a 
dismal failure. The young man stared straight before 
him, seeing only one figure, that of Ephraim Shine, 
until he felt a light touch on his arm. Someone was 
standing at his side, offering him the half of her 
hymn-book. Harry raised his hand to the leaves 
mechanically, and noticed that the hand on the other 
side was white and shapely, the wrist softly rounded 
and blue- veined. The voice that sounded by his side 
was low and musical. 

^Oh! Harry, what are you going to do?’ His 
neighbour had ceased singing, and was whispering 
tremulously under cover of the voices of the congre- 
gation. 

Harry’s face hardened, and he set it resolutely 
towards the platform. 

^ Don’t you know me, Harry? I am Christina 
Shine. You remember Chris ? We were school- 
mates.’ 

His daughter ! The young man let his left hand 
fall to his side. 

^ Please don’t. You have come to quarrel with 
father, but you won’t do it, Harry? You saved my 
life once, when we were boy and girl. You will 
promise me this ? ’ 

Harry Hardy answered nothing, and the pleading 
voice continued : 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 




‘ For the sake of the days when we were friends, 
Harry, say you won’t do it — you won’t do it here, in 
— in God’s house.’ 

‘ It was here, in God’s house, he slandered my 
mother.’ The man’s voice sounded relentless. 

‘ Ho, no, not that ! He prayed for her. He did 
not mean it ill. ’ 

‘ I have heard of his praying — how under the 
cover of his cant about saving souls he scatters his 
old-womanish scandals an’ abuses his betters. ’ 

^ He means well. Indeed, indeed, he means 
well.’ 

‘ An’ he prays for my mother — him ! Says she’s 
bred up thieves because she did not come here to learn 
better. Says she’s an atheist because she does not 
believe in Ephraim Shine. He’s said that, an’ I’m 
here to make him eat his words. ’ 

Harry’s whispering was almost shrill in the heat of 
his passion, and the singing of the hymn became faint 
and thin, so eager were the singers to catch a word of 
that most significant conversation. Dick had not 
taken his eyes off the pair, and already had woven a 
very pretty romance about Chris and the young man. 
Christina Shine had only recently been raised to the 
pedestal in his fond heart formerly occupied by an idol 
who had betrayed his youthful affections, disappointed 
his hopes, and outraged his sense of poetical fitness. 
He espoused her cause with his whole soul, whatever 
it might be. 

The young woman in the stress of her fears had 










ARE YOU THINKING?” WHISPERED THE GIRI. 



THE GOLD-STEALEKS. 


75 


clasped Harry’s arm, as if to restrain him, and he felt 
tlie soft agitation of her gentle bosom with a new 
emotion that weakened his tense thews, and stirred the 
first doubt ; but he fought it down. His revenge had 
become almost a necessity within the last three days. 
Nothing he had heard offered the faintest hope for his 
brother’s cause; he was baffled and infuriated by the 
general unquestioning belief in Frank’s guilt, and a 
dozen times had been compelled to sit biting on his 
bitterness, when every instinct impelled him to square 
up and teach the fools better with all the force of his 
pugilistic knowledge. Of late years he had been 
schooled in a class that accepted ^ a ready left ’ as the 
most convincing argument, and, being beyond the 
immediate province of law and order, repaired imme- 
diately with all its grievances to a twenty-four-foot 
‘ ring ’ and an experienced referee. But whilst there 
was a little diffidence amongst the men in expressing 
their opinions about Frank, there was no reserve when 
they came to tell of Ephraim Shine’s method of im- 
proving the occasion with prayer and preachment; 
and for a considerable time Harry had collected bit- 
terness till it threatened to choke him and bade him 
defy all his mother’s cautious principles. 

Ephraim had given out the third verse, and the 
singing went on. 

‘ Are you thinking? ’ whispered the girl. ‘ Do, 
do think ! Think of the disgrace of it.’ 

‘Disgrace! There’s the disgrace whining on the 
platform, the brute that insults a woman in her sor- 


76 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


row, thinking there’s no one handy to take it out of 
the coward hide of him ! ’ 

^ It was wrong, Harry. I know it was wrong and 
cruel. I told him that, and he has promised me never 
to do it again. He has promised me that, really, 
truly. ’ 

The word that slid through Harry’s teeth was fero- 
cious but inaudible. 

‘ Say you won’t do it ! ’ 

The singing ceased suddenly, and the superintend- 
ent, who all the time had kept a lowering and anxious 
eye on the young couple, gave out the third verse 
again. 

‘ Harry, you will not. Please say it ! ’ 

The hand holding the stockwhip stirred threaten- 
ingly, and the hymn was almost lost in the agitation 
of the worshippers. Chris remained silent, and Harry, 
who had taken the book again, had shifted his stern 
eyes to the slim white thumb beside his broad brown 
one. A stifled sob at his side startled him, and he 
turned a swift glance upon the face of his companion. 
That one glance, the first, left his brave resolution 
shaken and his spirit awed. 

Harry remembered Chris as a schoolgirl, tall and 
stag-like, always running, her rebellious knees tossing 
up scant petticoats, her long hair rarely leaving more 
than one eye visible through its smother of tangled 
silk. She was very brown then and very bony, and 
so ridiculously soft of heart that her tenderness was 
regarded by her schoolmates as an unfortunate infirm- 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


77 


ity. She was tall still, taller than himself, with large 
limbs and a sort of manly squareness of the shoulders 
and erectness of the figure, but neatly gowned, with 
little feminine touches of flower and ribbon that belied 
the savour of unwomanliness in her size and her bear- 
ing. Her complexion was clear and fair, her abun- 
dant hair tlie colour of liew wheat, her features were 
large, the nose a trifle aquiline, the chin square and 
finely chiselled ; the feminine grace was due to her 
eyes, large, grey, and almost infantile in expression. 
Tlie people of Waddy called her handsome, and no 
more tender term would suit; but they knew that 
this fair girl-woman, who seemed created to dominate 
and might have been expected to carry things with a 
high hand everywhere, was in reality the simplest, 
gentlest, and most emotional of her sex. She looked 
strong and was strong ; her only weakness was of the 
heart, and that was a prey to the sorrows of every 
human being within whose influence she came in the 
rounds of her daily life. 

Hardy was amazed ; almost unconsciously he had 
pictured the grown-up Chris an angular creature, lean, 
like her father, and resembling him greatly ; and to 
find this tall girl, with the face and figure of a battle 
queen, tearfully beseeching where in the natural 
course of events she should have been commanding 
haughtily and receiving humble obedience, filled him 
with a nervousness he had never known before. Only 
pride kept him now. 

^ Say you will go ! Say it ! ’ 


78 


THE GOLD-STEALEKS. 


Harry lowered his head, and remained silent. 

‘ Go now. Y our action would pain your mother more 
than my father’s words have done — I am sure of that. ’ 
The hymn was finished, but Shine read out the last 
verse once more. His concern was now obvious, and 
the congregation was wrought to an unprecedented 
pitch. Hever had a hymn been so badly sung in 
that chapel. It was taken up again without spirit, 
a few quavering voices carrying it on regardless of 
time and tune. Chris had noted Harry’s indecision. 

‘Do not stay and shame yourself. Go, and you 
will be glad you did not do this wicked thing. You 
are going. You will ! You will ! ’ 

He had stooped and seized his hat. He turned 
without a word or a glance, and strode from the 
chapel. The congregation breathed a great sigh, and 
as he passed out the chorus swelled into an imposing 
burst of song — a psean of triumph, Harry thought. 

Through the chapel windows the congregation 
could see Harry Hardy striding away in the direction 
of the line of bush. 

Christina, from her place amongst her girls, watched 
him till he disappeared in the quarries ; and so did 
Ephraim Shine, but with very different feelings. 
Many of the congregation were disappointed. They 
had expected a sensational climax. Class II was in- 
consolable, and made not the slightest effort to con- 
ceal its disgust, which lasted throughout the remainder 
of the morning and was a source of great tribulation 
to poor Brother Bowden. 


CHAPTEK YIII. 


IIaeky Hardy sought the seclusion of the hush, 
and there spent a very miserable morning. He was 
forced to the conclusion that he had made a fool of 
himself, and the thought that possibly that girl of 
Shine’s was now laughing with the rest rankled like 
a burn and impelled many of the strange oaths that 
slipped between his clenched teeth. The more he 
thought of his escapade the more ridiculous and theat- 
rical it seemed. It was born of an impulse, and would 
have been well enough had he carried out his inten- 
tion ; but, oh the ignominy of that retreat from the 
side of the grey-eyed, low-voiced girl under the gaze 
of the whole congregation ! It would not bear think- 
ing of, so he thought of it for hours, and swung his 
whip-lash against the log on which he sat, and quite 
convinced himself that he was hating Shine’s hand- 
some daughter with all the vehemence the occasion 
demanded. 

In many respects Harry was a very ordinary young 
man; bush life is a wonderful leveller, and he had 
known no other. His father had been a man of edu- 
cation and talent, drawn from a profession in his ear- 
lier manhood to the goldfields, who remained a miner 

79 


80 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


and a poor man to the day of his death. His wife was 
not able to induce their sons to aspire to anything 
above the occupations of the class with which they had 
always associated, so they were miners and stockmen 
with the rest. But the young men, even as boys, 
noticed in their mother a refinement and a clearness 
of intellect that were not characteristic of the women 
of Waddy; and out of the love and veneration they 
bore her grew a sort of family pride — a respect for 
their name that was quite a touch of old-worldly con- 
ceit in this new land of devil-may-care, and gave them 
a certain distinction. It was this that served largely 
to make the branding of Frank Hardy as a thief a 
consuming shame to his brother. Harry thought of 
it less as a wrong to Frank than as an outrage to his 
mother. It was this, too, that made the young man 
burn to take the Sunday School superintendent by the 
throat and lash him till he howled himself dumb in 
his own chapel. 

Harry returned to his log in Wilson’s back pad- 
dock again in the afternoon to wrestle with his diffi- 
culties, and, with the gluttonous rosellas swinging on 
the gum-boughs above, set himself to reconsider all 
that he had heard of Frank’s case and all the possibil- 
ities that had since occurred to him. Here Dick 
Haddon discovered him at about four o’clock. Dick 
was leading a select party at the time, with the inten- 
tion of reconnoitring old Jock Summers’s orchard in 
view of a possible invasion at an early date; but 
when he saw Harry in the distance he immediately 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


81 


abandoned the business in hand. An infamous act of 
desertion like this would have brought down contempt 
upon the head of another, and have earned him some 
measure of personal chastisement; but Dick was a 
law unto himself. 

^ So long, you fellows, ’ he said. 

‘ Why, where yer goin’ ? ’ grunted Jacker Mack. 

‘ ’Cross to Harry Hardy. He’s down by that ole 
white gum.’ 

‘ Gosh! so he is. I say, we’ll all go.’ 

^ Ho, you won’t. Youse go an’ see ’bout them 
cherries. Harry Hardy don’t want a crowd round.’ 

‘ How d’yer know he wants you? ’ 

‘ Find out. Me ’n him’s mates.’ 

‘ Yo-ow? ’ This in derision. 

^ ’Sides, I got somethin’ privit to say to him — 
somethin’ privit ’n important, see.’ 

This was more convincing, but it excited curiosity. 

^ ’Bout Tinribs? ’ queried Peterson. 

^ Likely I’d tell you. Clear out, go on. You can 
be captain of the band if you like, Jacker; ’n mind 
you don’t give it away.’ 

Dick gained his point, as usual, and prepared for a 
quite casual descent upon Harry, who had not yet 
seen the boys. The plan brought Dicky, ‘ shanghai ’ 
in hand, under the tree where Hardy sat. The boy 
was apparently oblivious of everything but the parrots 
up aloft, and it was not till after he had had his shot 
that he returned the young man’s salutation. Then 
he took a seat astride the log and offered some com- 


82 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


monplace information about a nest of joeys in a neigh- 
boring tree and a tame magpie that had escaped, and 
was teaching all the other magpies in Wilson’s pad- 
docks to whistle a jig and curse like a drover. But 
he got down to his point rather suddenly after all. 

‘ Say, Harry, was you goin’ to lambaste Tinribs? ’ 
‘ Tinribs? ’ 

‘ Yes, old Shine — this mornin’, you know.’ 

Harry looked into the boy’s eye and lied, but Dick 
was not deceived. 

‘ ’Twould a-served him good,’ he said thoughtfully ; 
‘ but you oughter get on to him when Miss Shine ain’t 
about. She’s terrible good an’ all that — better ’n 
Miss Keeley, don’t you think? ’ 

Miss Keeley was a golden-haired, high-com- 
plexioned, and frivolous young lady who had enjoyed 
a brief but brilliant career as barmaid at the Drovers’ 
Arms. Harry had never seen her, but expressed an 
opinion entirely in favour of Christina Shine. 

‘ But her father, ’ continued Dick, with an eloquent 
grimace, ^ he’s dicky ! ’ 

^ What’ve you got against him? ’ 

^ I do’ know. Look here, ’tain’t the clean pertater, 
is it, for a superintendent t’ lay into a chap at Sun- 
day School for things what he done outside? S’pose 
I float Tinribs’ s puddlin’ tub down the creek by acci- 
dent, with Doon’s baby in it when I ain’t thinkin’ , is 
it square fer him to nab me in Sunday School, an’ 
whack me fer it, pretendin’ all the time it’s ’cause I 
gtuck a mouse in the harmonium? ’ 


THE GOLD-STEALEKS. 


83 


Dick’s contempt for the man who could so misuse 
liis high office was very fine indeed. 

^ That’s the sorter thing Tinribs does,’ said the hoy. 
‘ If I yell after him on a Saturdee, he gammons t’ 
catch me doin’ somethin’ in school on Sundee, an’ 
comes down on me with the corner of his bible, ’r 
screws me ear. ’ 

Harry considered such conduct despicable, and 
thought the man who would take such unfair advan- 
tage of a poor boy might be capable of any infamy; 
and Dick, encouraged, crept a little nearer. 

‘ I say, ’ he whispered insinuatingly. ^ You could 
get him any day on the fiat, when he comes over after 
searchin’ the day shift.’ 

Harry shook his head, and slowly plucked at the 
dry bark. 

^ I don’t mean to toucli him,’ he said. 

Dick was amazed, and a little hurt, perhaps. His 
confidence had been violated in some measure. He 
thought the matter over for almost a minute. 

‘ Ain’t you goin’ to go fer him ’cause of her, eh? ’ 
he asked. 

‘Her? Who d’you mean? ’ 

‘ Miss Chris.’ 

‘ It’s nothin’ to do with her.’ 

Dick deliberated again. 

‘ Look here, she was cryin’ after you went this 
mornin’ . Saw her hidin’ her face by the harmonium, 
an’ wipin’ her eyes.’ 

Harry had not heard evidently ; he was, it would 


84 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


appear, devoting his whole attention to the antics of 
a blue grub. Dick approached still closer, and 
assumed the tone of an arch-conspirator. 

‘ Heard anything ’bout Mr. Frank? ’ 

‘ Not a thing, Dick.’ 

‘ What yer goin’ to do? ’ 

‘ I can’t say, my boy.’ 

‘ Well, I’ll tell you. Know what Sagacious done? ’ 
‘ Sagacious? Who is he? ’ 

‘ Sam Sagacious — Sleuth-hound Sam. ’ 

Harry looked puzzled. 

‘ What, don’t you know Sleuth-hound Sam? He’s 
a great feller in a book, what tracks down criminals. 
Listen here. One time a chap what was a mate of 
his got put in gaol for stealin’ money from a bank 
where he worked, when it wasn’t him at all. Sam, 
he went an’ got a job at the same bank, and that’s 
how he found out the coves ’at done it.’ 

The young man turned upon Dick, and sat for a 
moment following up the inference. Then he gripped 
the latter’s hand. 

‘By thunder! ’ he cried excitedly, ‘that’s a better 
idea than I could hit on in a week.’ 

Dick did not doubt it ; he had but a poor opinion 
of the resourcefulness of his elders when not figuring 
in the pages of romantic literature, but he was grati- 
fied by Harry’s ready recognition of his talent, and 
proceeded to enlarge upon the peculiar qualities of 
Sleuth-hound Sam, give instances of his methods, and 
relate some of his many successes. 


THE GOLD-STEALEKS. 


85 


At tea that evening Harry broached the subject of 
his visit to the cliapel. He knew his mother would 
hear of it, and thought it best she should have the 
melancholy story from his lips. 

‘ Do you see much of Shine’s daughter, mother? ’ 
he asked. 

‘ I do not see her often, but she has grown into a 
tall, handsome girl ; very different from the wild little 
thing you rescued from the cattle on the common 
eight years ago. ’ 

‘Yes; I’ve seen her — saw her in the chapel this 
morning. ’ 

‘ In the chapel,’ said Mrs. Hardy, turning upon 
him with surprise ; ‘ were you in the chapel, Henry? ’ 

Harry nodded rather shamefacedly. 

‘ Yes, mother,’ he said, ‘ I went to chapel, an’ took 
my whip with me. I meant to scruff Shine before the 
lot o’ them, an’ lash him black an’ blue.’ 

‘ That was shameful — shameful ! ’ 

‘ Anyhow, I didn’t do it. She came an’ put me 
off, an’ I sneaked out as if I’d been licked myself. 
I couldn’t have hammered the brute before her eyes, 
but — but ’ 

‘ But you meant to; is that it? Henry, you al- 
most make me despair. Have you no more respect 
for yourself? Have you none for me? ’ 

‘ I couldn’t stand it. You’ve heard. It made me 
mad! ’ 

‘ I have heard all, and I think Mr. Shine is a well- 
intentioned man whose faith, such as it is, is honest ; 


86 


THE GOLD-STEALEKS. 


but he is ignorant, coarse-fibred, and narrow-minded. 
He is doing right according to his own poor, dim 
light, and could not be convinced otherwise by any 
word or act of ours ; but his preachings can do me no 
injury. They do not irritate me in the least — indeed, 
I am not sure that they do not amuse me. ’ 

‘ Ah, mother, that’s like you ; you philosophise 
your way through a difiiculty, and I always want to 
fight my way out. It’s so much easier.’ 

‘ Yes, dear; but do you get out? Do you know 
that Ephraim Shine is the most litigious man in the 
township? He runs to the law with every little 
trouble, whilst inviting his neighbours to carry all 
theirs to the Lord. Had you beaten him he would 

have proceeded against you, and Oh ! my boy, 

my boy ! are you going to make my troubles greater? 
And I had such hopes. ’ 

‘Hush, mother. ’Pon my soul, I won’t! I’m 
going to hold myself down tight after this. An’, look 
here, I’ve got an idea. I’m going to Pete Holden 
to-morrow to ask him to put me on at the Stream, 
same shift as poor Frank was on, if possible.’ 

‘ Put on the brother of the man who ’ 

‘ Yes, mother, the brother of the thief. But 
Holden is a good fellow; he spoke up for Frank 
like a brick. Besides, d’you know what the 
men are saying? That the gold-stealing is still 
going on. I’ll tell Holden as much, an’ promise to 
watch, an’ watch, like a cat, if he’ll only send me 
below. ’ 


THE GOLD-STEALEKS. 


87 


^ Yes, yes; we can persuade him. I wonder we 
did not think of this before.’ 

^ ’Twas young Dick Haddon put me up to it, with 
some yarn of his about a detective.’ 

‘ Bless the boy ! he is unique — the worst and the 
best I have ever known. Johnnie, how dare you? ’ 

The last remark was addressed to Gable, who had 
been eating industriously for the last quarter of an 
hour. The old man, finding himself ignored, had 
smartly conveyed a large spoonful of jam from the 
pot to his mouth. He choked over it now, and 
wriggled and blushed like a child taken red-handed. 

‘ ’Twas only a nut,’ he said sulkily. 

‘ You naughty boy ! Will you never learn how to 
behave at table? Come here, sir. Ah, I see; as I 
suspected. You did not shave this morning. Go 
straight to bed after you have finished your tea. How 
dare you disobey me, you wicked boy ! ’ 

Gable knuckled his eyes with vigour, and began to 
snivel. He hated to have a beard on his chin, but 
would put off shaving longer than Mrs. Hardy thought 
consistent with perfect neatness. The ability to shave 
himself was the one manly accomplishment Gable had 
learned in a long life. 

This ludicrous incident had not served to draw 
Harry’s thoughts from his project. All his life he 
had seen his Uncle Johnnie treated as a child, and 
there was nothing incongruous in the situation, even 
when the grey -haired boy was rated for neglecting to 
shave or sent supperless to bed for similar sins of 


88 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


omission or commission. To Mrs. Hardy also it was 
a simple serious business of domestic government. 
Ever since she was ten years old Uncle John, who 
was many years her senior, had been her baby brother 
and her charge, and although gifted with a good 
sense of humour, the necessity of admonishing him 
did not interfere with the gravity of mind she had 
brought to bear on the former conversation. 

^ Mr. Holden was an old friend of your father’s, 
Henry,’ she said. 

‘I know,’ Harry replied. ‘They were mates at 
Buninyong and Bendigo. I’ll remind him of that.’ 

Harry Hardy found Manager Holden in his office 
at the Silver Stream when he called on the following 
morning. 

‘ Couldn’t do it, my lad,’ said the old miner; ‘ but 
I’ll put in a word for you with Hennessey at the White 
Crow.’ 

‘ I want a job here on the Stream — want it for a 
purpose, ’ said Harry. 

‘ There’ d be a row. The people at Yarraman would 
kick up, after the other affair. I’d be glad to, Harry ; 
but you’d best try somewhere else.’ 

‘Mr. Holden,’ said the young man, ‘do you be- 
lieve my brother guilty ? ’ 

The manager met his eager eyes steadily. 

‘ ’Tisn’t a fair question, lad,’ he answered. ‘I 
always found Frank straight, an’ he looked like an 
honest man ; but that evidence would have damned a 
saint.’ 


THE GOLD-STEALEKS. 


89 


‘ Do you think the gold-stealing has stopped? ’ 

The manager looked up sharply. 

^ Do you know anything? ’ 

‘ I know what the men hint at ; nothing more. If 
they could speak straight they wouldn’t do it.’ 

^Well, to tell you God’s truth, Hardy, I believe 
we are still losing gold.’ 

‘ Send me below, then, an’ by Heaven I’ll spot the 
true thieves if they’re not more cunning than the 
devil himself. You think Frank guilty, so do most 
people; it’s what we ought to expect, I s’ pose.’ 
Harry’s hands were clenched hard — it was a sore sub- 
ject. ‘ We don’t, Mr. Holden; we believe his story, 
every word of it. Give me half a chance to prove 
it. You were our father’s mate ; stand by us now. 
Put me on with the same shift as Frank worked with.’ 

‘ Done ! ’ said the manager, starting up. ‘ Come 
on at four. Go trucking; it’ll give you a better 
chance of moving round ; and good luck, my boy ! 
But take a hint that’s well meant: if the real thief is 
down there, see he plays no tricks on you.’ 

^ I’ve thought of that — trust me.’ 

Harry Hardy’s appearance below with the after- 
noon shift at the Stream occasioned a good deal of 
talk amongst the miners; but he heard none of it. 
Shine was in the searching- shed when he came up at 
midnight, on his knees amongst the men’s discarded 
clothes, pawing them over with his claw-like fingers. 

The searcher rarely spoke to the men, never looked 
at them, and performed his duties as if unconscious of 


90 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


their presence. Custom had made him exceedingly 
cautious, for it was the delight of the men to play 
tricks upon him, usually of an exceedingly painful 
nature. The searcher is no man’s friend. When 
putting on his dry clothes, Harry heard Joe Rogers, 
the foreman, saying : 

‘ D’yer know them’s Harry Hardy’s togs yer 
pawin’. Brother Tinribs? ’ 

Shine’s mud-coloured eyes floated uneasily from one 
form to another, but were raised no higher than the 
knees of the men, seemingly. 

‘ Yes, search ’em carefully. Brother. I s’ pose 
you’d like ter jug the whole family. ’Taint agin yer 
Christian principles, is it, Mr. Superintendent, to send 
innocent men to gaol? Quod’s good fer morals, ain’t 
it? A gran’ place to cultivate the spirit o’ brotherly 
love, ain’t it — eh, what? Blast you fer a snivellin’ 
hippercrit. Shine! If yer look sidelong at me I’ll 
belt you over ’ 

Rogers made an ugly movement towards the 
searcher; but Peterson and another interposed, and 
he returned to the form, spitting venomous oaths like 
an angry cat. Shine, kneeling on the floor, had gone 
on with his work in his covert way, as if quite uncon- 
scious of the foreman’s burst of passion. 



CHAPTER IX. 


Jackee Mack’s report having been entirely favour- 
able, the invasion of Summers’ orchard was under- 
taken at dinner-time on the Tuesday following. The 
party, which consisted of Dick Haddon, Jacker Mc- 
Knight, Ted, Billy Peterson, and Gable, started for 
the paddocks immediately school was out, intending 
to make Jock Summers compensate them for the loss 
of a meal. It was not thought desirable to take 
Gable, but he insisted, and Gable was exceedingly 
pig-headed and immovable when in a stubborn mood. 
Dick tried to drive him back, but failed ; when the 
others attempted to run away from him the old man 
trotted after them, bellowing so lustily that the safety 
of the expedition was endangered ; so he was allowed 
to stand in. 

‘He’ll do to keep nit,’ said Dick. 

Gable could not run in the event of a surprise and 
a pursuit, but that mattered little, as it was long since 
known to be hopeless to attempt to extract evidence 
from him, and his complicity in matters of this kind 
was generously overlooked by the people of Waddy. 

The expedition was not a success. Dick planned 

91 


92 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


it and captained it well ; but the best laid plans of 
youth are not less fallible than those of mice and men, 
and one always runs a great risk in looting an orchard 
in broad daylight — although it will be admitted, by 
those readers who were once young enough and human 
enough to rob orchards, that stealing cherries in the 
dark is as aggravating and unsatisfactory an undertak- 
ing as eating soup with a two-pronged fork. 

Dick stationed Gable in a convenient tree, with 
strict orders to cry ‘ nit ’ should anybody come in 
sight from the black clump of fir-trees surrounding 
the squatter’s house. Then he led his party over the 
fence and along thick lines of currant bushes, creeping 
under their cover to where the beautiful white-heart 
cherries hung ripening in the sun. Dick was very 
busy indeed in the finest of the trees when the note of 
warning came from Ted McKnight. 

‘ISTit! nit! nit! Here comes Jock with a dog.’ 

Dick was last in the rush. He saw the two Mc- 
Knights safe away, and was following Peterson, full 
of hope, when there came a rush of feet behind and 
he was sent sprawling by a heavy body striking 
him between the shoulders. "When he was quite able 
to grasp the situation he found himself on the broad 
of his back, with a big mastiff lying on his chest, one 
paw on either side of his head, and a long, warm 
tongue lolling in his face with affectionate familiarity. 
The expression in the dog’s eye, he noticed, was de- 
cidedly genial, but its attitude was firm. The amia- 
ble eye reassured him ; he was not going to be eaten, 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


93 


but at the same time he was given to understand that 
that dog would do his duty though the heavens 
fell. 

A minute later the mastiff was whistled off ; Dick 
was taken by the ear and gently assisted to his feet, 
and stood defiantly under the stern eye of a rugged, 
spare-boned, iron-grey Scotchman, six feet high, and 
framed like an iron cage. Jock retained his hold on 
the boy’s ear. 

‘ Eh, eh, what is it, laddie? ’ he said, ‘ enterin’ an’ 
stealin’, enterin’ an’ stealin’. A monstrous crime. 
Come wi’ me.’ 

Dick followed reluctantly, but the grip on his ear- 
lobe was emphatic, and in his one short struggle for 
freedom he felt as if he were grappling with the great 
poppet-legs at the Silver Stream. Summers paused 
for a moment. 

‘ Laddie,’ he said, ‘ d’ye mind my wee bit dog? ’ 

The dog capered like a frivolous cow, fiopped his 
ears, and exhibited himself in a cheerful, well-mean- 
ing way. 

‘ If ye’d rather, laddie, the dog will bring ye home,’ 
continued the man. 

‘ Skite ! ’ said Dick, with sullen scorn ; but he went 
quietly after that. 

At the house they were met by Christina Shine, and 
Dick blushed furiously under her gaze of mild surprise. 
Christina had been a member of the Summers house- 
hold for over five years, ever since the death of her 
mother, and had won herself a position there, some- 


94 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


thing like that of a beloved poor relation with light 
duties and many liberties. 

^ Dickie, Dickie, what have you been doing this 
time? ’ asked Miss Chris. 

‘ Eobbin’ my fruit-trees, my dear. What might 
we do with him, d’ye think? ’ 

Miss Chris thought for a minute with one finger 
pressed on her lip. 

‘ We might let him go,’ she said, with the air of 
one making rather a clever suggestion. 

‘ Na, na, na ; we canna permit such crimes to go 
unpunished. ’ 

‘ Poor boy, perhaps he’s very fond of cherries, ’ said 
Chris in extenuation. 

Summers regarded the young woman dryly for a 
moment. 

^ Eh, eh, girl,’ he said, ^ ye’d begin to pity the 
very De’il himself if ye thought maybe he’d burnt his 
finger. ’ 

Dick was greatly comforted. As a general thing 
he writhed under sympathy, but, strangely enough, he 
found it very sweet to hear her speaking words of pity 
on his behalf, and to feel her soft eyes bent upon him 
with gentle concern . Probably no young woman quite 
understands the deep devotion she has inspired in the 
bosom of a small boy even when she realises — which is 
rare indeed — that she is regarded with unusual affec- 
tion by Tommy or Billy or Jim. Jim is probably very 
young ; his hair as a rule appears to have been tousled 
in a whirlwind, his plain face is never without traces 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


95 


of black jam in which vagrant dust finds rest, and in 
the society of the adored one he is shy and awkward. 
The adored one may think him a good deal of a nui- 
sance, but deep down in the dark secret chamber of 
his heart she is enshrined a goddess, and worshipped 
with zealous devotion. Men may call her an angel 
lightly enough ; Jim knows her to be an angel, and 
says never a word. His romance is true, and pure, 
and beautiful while it lasts — the only true, pure, and 
beautiful romance many women ever inspire, and alas ! 
they never know of it, and would not prize it if they 
did. 

That was the feeling Dick had for Christina Shine. 
Thore had been others — Richard Haddon w^as not 
bigoted in his constancy — but now it was Miss Chris, 
and to him she was both angel and princess ; a princess 
stolen from her royal cradle by the impostor Shine 
under moving and mysterious circumstances, and at 
the instigation of a disreputable uncle. It only re- 
mained for Dick to slaughter the latter in fair fight, 
under the eyes of an admiring multitude, in order to 
restore Chris to all her royal dignities and privileges. 

Jock Summers had not relaxed his grip on the boy’s 
ear. He led him to a small dairy sunk in the side of 
the hill and roofed with stone. 

^ Ye may bide in there, laddie,’ he said, ‘ till I can 
make up my mind. I think I might just skin ye, an’ 
I think maybe I might get ye ten years to Yarraman 
Gaol, but I’m no sure.’ 

Dick had to go down several steps to the floor of 


96 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


the dairy, and when the door was shut his face was on 
a level with the grating that let air into the place. He 
passed the first few minutes of his imprisonment mak- 
ing offers of friendship to the dog that sprawled out- 
side, opening its capacious mouth at him and curling 
its long tongue as if anxious to amuse. The boy had 
no fears as to his fate ; he felt he could safely leave 
that to Miss Chris ; and, meanwhile, the dog was en- 
tertaining. The animal was new to Dick: had he 
known of its existence, his descent upon the orchard 
would have been differently ordered. In time Maori 
came to be intimately known to every boy in Waddy 
as the most kindly and affable dog in the world, but 
afflicted with a singularly morbid devotion to duty. If 
sent to capture a predatory youth he never failed to 
secure the marauder, and always did it as if he loved 
him. His formidable teeth were not called into 
service; he either knocked the youngster down and 
held him with soft but irresistible paws, or he gam- 
bolled with him, jumped on him, frisked over him, 
made escape impossible, and all the time seemed to 
imply: ^I have a duty to perform, but you can’t 
blame me, you know. There’s no reason in the world 
why we shouldn’t be the best of friends.’ And they 
were the best of friends in due course, for Maori bore 
no malice ; there came a time when youngsters invaded 
Jock’s garden for the pleasure of being captured by 
his wonderful dog. 

Ere Dick had been in his prison ten minutes Chris 
came to him with tea and cake and scones, and when 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


97 


he had finished these she showered cherries in upon 
him. This time she whispered through the grating: 

^ You haven’t got a cold, have you, Dick? ’ 

‘ No, miss ; I never have colds. ’ 

‘Oh, dear, that’s a pity! I thought if you could 
catch a cold I might be able to get you out.' 

‘ Oh ! ’ Dick thought for a moment, and then 
coughed slightly. 

‘ It will have to be a very bad cold, I think.’ 

Dick’s cough became violent at once, and when 
Chris led Summers into the vicinity of the dairy a 
few minutes later the cold had developed alarmingly. 
Summers heard, and a quizzical and suspicious eye 
followed Christina. 

‘He — he doesn’t appear to be a very strong boy, 
Mr. Summers,’ said the young woman with obvious 
artfulness. 

‘ Strong as a bullock, ’ said Summers. 

‘ He looked very pale, I thought, and that place is 
damp — damp and dangerous.’ 

Summers dangled the keys. 

‘ Let the rascal go,’ he said. ‘ Justice will never be 
done wi’in range o’ those bright eyes. Let the young 
villain loose. ’ 

Chris liberated the boy, and filled his pockets with 
fruit before sending him away. 

‘My word, you are a brick,’ murmured Dick, 
quite overcome, and then Chris, being hidden from 
the house by the shrubbery, did an astounding thing; 
she put her arm about the boy’s neck and kissed him, 


98 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


and Dick’s face flamed red, and a delicious confusion 
possessed him. If he were her worshipper before he 
was her slave now — her unquestioning, faithful slave. 

‘ You know,’ she said, ‘ I must be your friend, be- 
cause if it had not been for you my father might have 
died out there. ’ 

Dick had recalled the incident several times lately, 
but always, it must be regretfully admitted, with a 
pang of angry compunction. There were occasions 
when he felt that it would have been wise to have left 
the superintendent to his fate. He wondered now, 
casually, why the daughter should entertain senti- 
ments of gratitude that never seemed to And a place 
in the arid bosom of her sire. 

^ Oh, that ain’t nothin’,’ he said awkwardly, dig- 
ging his heel into the turf, all aglow with novel emo- 
tions. Never had he felt quite so grand before. 

‘ Dick, will you take a message from me to — to 

’ The young woman was toying with his sleeve, 

her cheeks were ruddy, and the girlish timidity she 
displayed was in quaint contrast with her flne face and 
commanding figure. 

‘To Harry Hardy?’ said Dick, with ready con- 
jecture. 

‘Yes,’ said Chris. ‘However could you have 
guessed that? Tell him I am very thankful to 
him ’ 

‘ Fer clearin’ out Sunday. Yes, I’ll tell him. I 
say. Miss Chris, do you know I think he’s awful fond 
p’ you — awful.’ 


THE GOLD-STEALEKS. 


99 


‘ No, Dick, he is not. He hates us — father 
and I. ’ 

‘ No fear, he don’t. He was at our place Sunday 
night, lookin’ at that photo of you in our albium. 
He looked at it more’n he looked at all the rest put 
together, an’ kep’ sneakin’ peeps, an’ that don’t show 
hate, if you ask me.’ 

Dick was half an hour late for school that after- 
noon, but he never faced Joel Ham with a lighter 
heart or more careless mien. The master pretended 
to be absorbed in a patch on the roof till Dick had 
almost reached his seat ; then he beckoned the boy, 
took him on the point of liis cane, like a piece of 
toast, and backed him against the wall, where he 
held him transfixed for a few moments, blinking 
humorously. 

^ Ginger, my boy, I regret to have to say it, but 
you are late again.’ 

‘ Never said I wasn’t,’ said Dick, accepting the in- 
evitable. 

‘ True, Ginger, perfectly true. Any explanations? 
But let me warn you anything you may say will be 
taken down as evidence against you.’ 

‘ I was visitin’ — visitin’ Mr. John Summers up at 
The House ’ (Summers’ residence was always ‘ The 
House’), ‘an’ — an’ he detained me.’ 

Jcel’s face suddenly fell into wrinkles, and his 
disengaged fingers clawed his sparse whiskers. 

‘And you used to be quite a clever liar, Ginger,* 
he said with philosophical regret. 

L.ofC. 


100 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


‘ Arsk Jock Summers yerself if you don’t believe 
me,’ growled the boy. 

^ No, no,’ said the master shaking his head sadly, 
‘ you are lying very badly to-day. Ginger. You have 
the heart to do it, but not the art. Hold up ! ’ 

Dick’s hand went out unfalteringly. 

‘One,’ said the master. ‘Two! Hurt, eh? Well, 
be consoled with the reflection that all knowledge is 
simply pain codifled. Three! Four — no, I will owe 
you the fourth.’ 

Jacker Mack, and Ted, and Peterson were prey to 
the wildest curiosity. Peterson risked cuts with crim- 
inal recklessness in his efforts to communicate with 
Dick when the latter took his seat, and Jacker, who 
sat next, edged up close to Dick and whispered ex- 
citedly : 

‘What happened? What’d he do? Where yer 
been? ’ 

‘Been,’ said Dick, ‘oh, just havin’ dinner up at 
The House.’ 

‘ Wha-at — with ole Jock? ’ 

‘ With Mr. and Mrs. Summers, J.P.’ 

‘Gerrout! yer can’t stuff me.’ 

‘Oh, all right, Jacker, don’t excite yerself. Per- 
haps they didn’t give me a load o’ cherries to bring 
away, an’ strawberries — thumpin’ ripe strawberries, 
hid somewhere what I know of. Oh, I think not. 
An’ maybe I wasn’t told to come up to The House 
Sundays an’ help myself. Very likely not.’ All 
this in an airy whisper. 


THE GOLD-STEALEKS. 


101 


^Halves! ’ hissed Jacker. 

‘ Quarters ! ’ murmured Peterson from his hiding- 
place behind the desk. 

^ P’raps I don’t know somethin’ too,’ continued 
Jacker mysteriously. 

Dick Haddon cocked his eye. 

‘ Pompey, the woodjammer, tol’ me he see that 
bandy whimboy what you fought at the picnic ridin’ 
your billy down to Cow Flat, an’ Butts seemed to 
like it. ’ 

This was serious. The idea of Butts becoming at- 
tached to another master gave Dick a real pang. Al- 
ready he had suffered many twinges of conscience in 
consequence of his neglect of the goat in captivity. 

‘ Wait till I get hold o’ that cove,’ he said bitterly. 
‘ I’ll murder him.’ 

‘ Ain’t we never goin’ after them goats? ’ asked 
Jacker. 

Dick nodded emphatically. 

‘ My oath. I’ll fix it.’ 

‘ Am’ you’ll shell out wif the strawb’ries? ’ 

Dick nodded again; Jacker went peacefully to his 
work and Peterson crawled back to his seat. Confi- 
dence was restored. 


CHAPTEE X. 


Haery Hardy’s first few shifts below only served 
to convince him of the difficulties of the task he had 
set himself. The Silver Stream was a big alluvial 
mine working two levels, and there were close upon 
a hundred hands below on each shift. All these he 
could not watch ; but he was working in the same 
drive and with the set of men Frank had worked with, 
and was always alert for hint or sign that would give 
him a clue, whilst at the same time being careful not 
to set the thieves on their guard. He must watch 
closely without letting it be seen that he was watch- 
ing at all. Keen as he was in the pursuit of his ob- 
ject, he found, with some self-resentment, that his 
mind frequently reverted to another subject alto- 
gether; and that subject was Miss Christina Shine. 
When he caught himself absorbed in a reverie in 
which Miss Chris was the centre of interest, he met- 
aphorically took himself by tlie neck and shook him- 
self up, and during the next few minutes reviewed 
with quite extravagant ferocity the excellent reasons 
he had for hating Chris for her father’s sake. It was 
a melancholy pleasure to him to see the searcher paw- 

102 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


103 


ing his clothes about, digging into his pockets and his 
billy, and examining his boots. His old instinct 
would have prompted him to attack Ephraim on the 
floor of the shed, but now, with lamentable unreason 
and injustice, he nursed the insult as good and sufli- 
cient cause for contemning the daughter. He had 
seen Chris once since Sunday, and then only from the 
recesses of a clump of scrub into which he had retreated 
on seeing her approach ; but he felt, without admit- 
ting the knowledge even to himself, that he would 
need all the excuses he could And, just or unjust, rea- 
sonable or otherwise, to battle with something that 
was rising up within him to drive him on his knees 
to the feet of this grey-eyed girl, a humble and ab- 
ject penitent. 

For an hour or two each day Harry was fossicking 
in the creek on the spot where Frank had been work- 
ing, with the idea of satisfying himself whether or 
not such gold as Frank had sold was obtainable there; 
and here the searcher’s daughter came upon him one 
morning shortly after the incident of the Sunday 
School. Harry had his cradle pitched near the cross- 
ing, and to ignore the young woman would be an 
avowal of enmity. Here was his opportunity. Harry 
set his face over the hopper and cradled industriously. 
He thought he was displaying proper firmness, but 
his hand trembled, his heart beat like a plunger, and 
he was the victim of an ignoble bashfulness. Chris 
approached with some timidity ; but Maori bounded 
up to the young man, making elephantine overtures 


104 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


of friendliness j which were resented by Harry’s cattle- 
dog Cop, who walked round and round the mastiff in 
narrowing circles, bristling like a cat and snarling 
hoarsely. Maori treated the challenge with a lordly 
indulgence. Cop went further, he snapped and 
brought blood. There were some things Maori could 
not stand: this was one. Out of a small storm of 
pebbles, chips, leaves, and dust, the two dogs pres- 
ently came into view again. Cop on his back, pawing 
wildly at the unresisting air, and Maori at his throat, 
pinning him with a vice-like grip. 

Harry rushed to the rescue, tore his dog free, and 
held back the furious animal up-reared and exposing 
vicious fangs. Chris laid a trembling hand on the 
collar of the penitent Maori, and in this way the 
young people faced each other. Their eyes met for a 
moment, Harry’s frowning blackly, hers anxious and 
beseeching. 

‘ I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘ Is he hurt?'’ 

‘ No,’ replied Harry sulkily. ‘ No thanks to that 
brute of yours, though.’ 

‘ Oh ! ’ This very reproachfully. 

Harry looked up and encountered her eyes again, 
and they shattered him, as they had done in chapel, 
giving him a sense of having exerted his strength to 
hurt something sweet and tender as a flower ; and yet 
the girl seemed to tower above him. Nature, in put- 
ting the fresh sympathetic soul of a child into the 
grand body of a Minerva, had set a problem that was 
too deep for Harry Hardy. 


THE GOLD-STEALEKS. 


105 


‘Beg pardon,’ he said, humbly; ‘ ’twas my dog 
started it. Down, Cop ! To heel ! ’ 

He checked himself suddenly on a ‘ stock term. ’ 
There were tones of his master’s that Cop never dared 
to disobey ; he went down at full length and lay pant- 
ing, regarding Maori fixedly with a sidelong and 
malevolent eye. Harry returned to his cradle, and 
Chris approached the stepping-stones and paused 
there. 

‘Did Dickie Haddon give you my message? ’ she 
asked in a low voice. 

Harry nodded. 

‘ It’s all right,’ he said. 

There w^as another pause, broken at length by 
Chris. 

‘You ought not to be angry with me. It isn’t 
fair.’ 

She was thinking of the day years ago when she was 
carried, all tattered and torn, from the midst of that 
mob of sportive cattle. She was a very little girl 
then, but the incident had remained fresh and vivid 
in her mind, and ever since Harry Hardy had been a 
hero in her eyes. He only remembered the afiair 
casually and without interest. 

‘ I am really very grateful to you for — for going 
away, because I know you had good cause for your 
anger. ’ 

‘ Oh, that’s all right,’ said Harry again, inaptly. 

‘ But you ought not to be angry with me. It 
pained me very much — the trial and your mother’s 


106 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


sorrow, and all the rest. It hurt me because it seemed 
to set me on the side that was against Mrs. Hardy, 
and I — I always admired her. I knew she was a good 
woman, and it was easy to see the trouble cut into her 
heart although she bore it so proudly.’ 

‘ Oh, that’s all right.’ Harry was fumbling with 
the gravel in the hopper. He was conscious that his 
replies were foolish and trivial, but for the life of him 
he could do no better. 

She waited a few moments, then bade him good 
morning and went across the creek and away amongst 
the trees beyond ; and Harry, resting upon the han- 
dle of his cradle, watched her, absorbed, a prey to a 
set of new emotions that bewildered him hopelessly. 
He was still in this position when Chris looked back 
from the hill, and half an hour later Dick Haddon 
found him day-dreaming amongst the tailings. 

Day-dreams were not possible in the vicinity of 
Eichard Haddon. The boy was an ardent fossicker, 
and loved to be burrowing amongst old tailings, or 
groping in the sludge of an auriferous creek after lit- 
tle patches. He was soon peering into the ripples of 
Harry’s cradle. 

^ Poor,’ he commented, with the confidence of an 
expert. 

‘ Hot up to much, Dick,’ said Harry. ^I’ve just 
been prospectin’ a bit round here. ’ 

^ Frank was tryin’ that bank. ’Tain’t no good. 
Say, I can lay you outer somethin’ better not far 
from here. ’ 


THE GOLD-STEALEKS. 


107 


‘ Yes — where is it? ’ 

‘ Tellin’s. WhaEll you give us? ’ 

‘ Depends. What’s it worth? ’ 

‘ Got half a pennyweight prospect there onst. Look 
here, you lend me yer dog t’ -night, an’ I’ll show 
where.’ 

‘ What do you want with Cop? ’ 

‘ You won’t split? Well, some coves down to Cow 
Flat come up an’ stole my goat. Butts, an’ a lot of 
others, an’ me an’ some other fellers is goin’ after 
’em t’-night, late. A good sheep-dog what’s a quiet 
worker ’d be spiffin. Cop’s all right. He’d work 
fer me.’ 

Harry had not forgotten the time when a lordly 
billy was the pride and joy of his own heart, and his 
sympathies were with Dick ; so Cop accompanied the 
band of youthful raiders that assembled with much 
mystery in the vicinity of the schoolhouse late that 
night. The desperadoes had stolen from their beds 
while their parents slept, and were ripe for adventure. 
Dick, who had Cop in charge, put himself at the head 
of the rising with his customary assurance, and gave 
his orders in a low, stern voice. According to his 
authorities, a low, stern voice was proper to the com- 
mand of all such midnight enterprises. 

But before starting for Cow Flat it was necessary to 
forage for ammunition. Two or three of the boys 
were provided with bags. It was proposed to fill 
these with such vegetables as would serve to allure 
the coy but gluttonous goat, and a silent, systematic 


108 


THE GOLD-STEALEKS. 


descent was made upon several kitchen gardens of 
"Waddy. 

^ Go fer carrots an’ cabbages, specially carrots,’ 
whispered the commandant, whose experience of goats 
was large and varied, and taught him that the average 
nanny or billy would desert home and kindred and go 
through fire and water in pursuit of a succulent young 
carrot not larger than a clothes-peg. 

When the boys turned their backs on Waddy the 
expedition carried with it vegetables enough to bribe 
all the goats in the province. The garden of Michael 
Devoy was a waste place, desolation brooded over the 
carrot beds of the Canns and the Sloans, and Mrs. 
Ben Steven’s cabbage-patch lay in ruins. 

For this night only Dick had assumed the role of 
Moonlighter Kyan, a notorious Queensland cattle- 
duffer, recently hanged for his part in a disputation 
with a member of the mounted police. The dispute 
ended with the death of the policeman, who succumbed 
to injuries received. As Moonlighter Dick was charac- 
teristically remorseless, his courage and cunning were 
understood to verge upon the inhuman, and his band 
was composed of the most utterly abandoned ruffians 
the history of the country afforded ; only two of them 
had not been hanged, and these two justified their in- 
clusion by having richly deserved hanging several times 
over. 

Across the fiat and past the toll-bar, where the light 
sleep of Dan, the tollman, was not disturbed by the 
creeping band. Moonlighter led his outlaws warily, 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


109 


then struck the long bush road between two lines of 
straggling fence running with all sorts of lists and 
bends, going on and on endlessly, according to the 
belief of the boys of Waddy. The road was overhung 
by tall gums and nourished many clumps of fresh green 
saplings, about which the tortuous cart-track wound 
in deep yellow ruts, baked hard in summer, washed 
into treacherous bog in winter. Here caution was not 
necessary, and there were divers fierce hand-to-hand 
attacks on clumps of scrub representing a vindictive 
and merciless police, out of which Moonlighter and his 
men issued crowned with victory and covered with 
glory. A scarecrow in a wayside orchard was charged 
with desperate valour, and only saved from instant de- 
struction as a particularly hateful police spy by the 
sudden intervention of the leader. 

^ Back, men ! ’ he cried imperiously. ^ Moon- 
lighter never makes war on women ! ’ 

He pointed to the protecting skirt in which the 
scarecrow was clad, and his bold bad men drew off 
and retired abashed. 

For the next half-mile Moonlighter led his men in 
stealthy retreat from an overwhelming force of troop- 
ers armed to the teeth. Tracks had to be covered 
and diversions created, and there was much hiding 
behind logs and in clumps of scrub; indeed, the 
police were only foiled at length by the exertion of 
that subtle strategy for which Moonlighter was no- 
torious. 

It was after one o’clock in the morning when Cow 


110 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


Flat was reached. The little township slept, steeped 
in darkness, beside its sluggish strip of creeping 
‘ slurry ’ miscalled a creek. Beyond, on the rise, a 
big mine clattered and groaned, and puffed its glowing 
clouds of steam against the sky ; but Cow Flat had 
settled down into silence after the midnight change of 
shifts, and a mining township sleeps well. For all that it 
was a stealthy and cautious band Moonlighter led down 
to the old battered engine-house by the edge of the 
common, where the goats of Cow Flat were known to 
herd in large numbers. Sure enough here were goats of 
both sexes, and all sorts and sizes — sleeping huddled in 
the ruined engine-house, on the sides of the grass-grown 
tip, in the old bob-pit, and upon the remains of thefallen 
stack. Carefully and quietly the animals were awak- 
ened ; slyly they were drawn forth, with gentle whisp- 
ered calls of ‘Nan, nan, nan ! ’ and insidious and sooth- 
ing words, but more especially with the aid of scraps 
of carrot, sparingly but judiciously distributed. An 
occasional low, querulous bleat from a youthful nanny 
awakened from dreams of clover-fields, or a hoarse, 
imperious inquiry in a deep baritone ‘ baa ’ from a 
patriarchal he-goat, was the only noise that followed 
the invasion. Then, when the animals within the 
ruin were fully alive to the situation and awake to the 
knowledge that it all meant carrots, and that outside 
carrots innumerable awaited the gathering, they 
streamed forth : they fought in the doorways, they 
battered a passage through the broken wall; faint 
plaintive queries went up from scores of throats, 


THE GOLD-STEALEKS. 


Ill 


answered by gluttonous mumblings from goats that 
had been fortunate enough to snatch a morsel of the 
delectable vegetable. Down from the tips and up 
from the bob-pit they came, singly and in sets, 
undemonstrative matrons with weak-kneed twins at 
their heels, skittish kids and bearded veterans, and 
joined the anxious, eager, hungry mob. 

‘ Away with them, my boys,’ ordered Moonlighter. 

‘ Head ’em fer the common. We’!! have every 
blessed goat in the place.’ 

He sent away three bands in three different direc- 
tions, fully provisioned, and commissioned to collect 
goats from all quarters. 

‘Bring ’em up to the main mob on the common, 
an’ the man what makes a row I’ll hang in his shirt 
to the nearest tree. Don’t leave the beggars any kind 
of a goat at all. ’ 

Dick had undertaken a big contract. Cow Flat was 
simply infested with goats; every family owned its 
small flock, and the milk-supply of the township 
depended entirely upon the droves of nannies that 
grubbed for sustenance on the stony ridges or the bare, 
burnt stretch of common land. Probably Cow Flat 
was so called because nobody had ever seen anything 
remotely resembling a cow anywhere in the vicinity ; 
consequently goats were held in high esteem, for ten 
goats can live and prosper where one cow would die 
of hunger and melancholy in a month. 

Jacker Mack, Peterson, and Parrot Cann had 
recognised their billies in the heard, but Butts was 


112 


THE GOLD-STEALEKS. 


still missing. On an open space near the road by 
which Moonlighter’s gang had come, and at a safe 
distance from the township, a few of the raiders held 
the main body of the goats. Parrot Cann, with a 
bag of cabbages on his shoulder, was the centre of 
attraction, and the dropping of an occasional leaf kept 
the goats pushing about him, some uprearing and 
straining toward the tantalising bag, others baa-ing 
in his face a piteous appeal. Suddenly, however, an 
astute billy with a flowing beard came to the rescue. 
He drove at Cann from the rear with masterly strategy 
and uncommon force, and brought him down ; then 
in a flash boy and bag were hidden under a climbing, 
butting, burrowing army of goats, from the centre of 
which came the muffled yells of poor Parrot clipped 
in a hundred places by the sharp hoofs of the hungry 
animals. 

Moonlighter promptly led a desperate charge to the 
rescue, and after a hard struggle Cann was dragged 
out, tattered and bleeding ; but the bag was abandoned 
to the enemy. 

In about twenty minutes Jacker Mack and a couple 
of subordinates brought up a herd gathered from the 
hill on the left bank of the creek; Peterson came 
soon after with a good mob from the right, and Dolf 
Belman and another followed with a score or so from 
about the houses. But still Butts had not been 
captured. 

‘ You fellers take ’em on slowly,’ said Moonlighter. 
Me an’ Gardiner’ 11 go back an’ have a try after 


THE GOLD-STEALEKS. 


113 


Butts.’ Ted McKnight represented Gardiner in this 
enterprise. 

The hunt for Butts had to be conducted with great 
circumspection. The boys crept from place to place ; 
Dick called the goat’s name softly at all outhouses 
and enclosures, and won a response after a search of 
over a quarter of an hour, Butts’s familiar ^ baa ’ 
answering from the interior of a stable in a back 
yard. Ted was stationed to keep ‘nit,’ and Dick 
stole into the yard, broke his way into the stable, 
and was leading the huge billy out of captivity 
when the savage barking of a dog broke the 
silence; and then an adjacent window was thrown 
up and a woman’s voice called ‘Thieves!’ and 
‘Eire! ’ 

Dick had given Butts the taste of a carrot and now 
fled, dangling the inviting vegetable, Butts following 
at his heels. 

‘ Go fer it, Ted ! ’ he yelled, and the two rushed 
over the flat ground, up the hill, and across the thinly- 
timbered bush to the road. A good run brought 
them up to the main flock, Butts still ambling gaily 
in the rear, making hungry bites at the carrot hitched 
under Dick’s belt at the back. 

‘Bush ’em along! ’ cried the panting Moonlighter. 
‘We’ve waked the blessed town. Heel ’em. Cop, 
heel ’em! 

Peterson and Jacker went ahead dangling cabbages ; 
the dog entered into the spirit of the thing with en- 
thusiasm and worked the flock in his very best style ; 


114 


THE GOLD-STEALEKS. 


and so the boys of Waddy, hot, excited, very fright- 
ened of probable pursuers, but wondrously elated, 
swept the great drove of goats up the road in the 
light of the waning moon. The pace was warm for a 
mile, but then, the dread of pursuit having evaporated, 
the marauders slowed down, and for the rest of the 
journey they were experienced drovers bringing down 
the largest lot of stock that had ever been handled by 
man, full of technical phrases and big talk of runs, 
and plains, and flooded rivers, and long, waterless 
spells. It was Jacker Mack who sounded the first 
note of dismay. 

‘ Jee-rusalem ! How ’bout the toll? ’ 

Nobody had thought of the toll-bar, and there 
were the big, white gates already in sight, stretching 
across the road, threatening to bring dismal failure 
upon the expedition when complete success seemed 
imminent. 

^ Down with the fence ! ’ ordered the implacable 
Moonlighter. 

In two minutes the boys had found a w^eak set of 
rails in the fence, and shortly after the goats were 
being driven across Wilson’s paddock, cutting off a 
great corner, and heading for the farmer’s gates that 
opened out on to the open country on which Waddy 
was built. Through these gates the flock was driven 
with a racket and hullaballoo that set Wilson’s half- 
dozen dogs yapping insanely, and started every 
rooster on the farm crowing in shrill protesta- 
tion, Then helter-skelter over the flat the goats 


THE GOLD-STEALEKS. 


115 


were swept in on the township and left to their 
own devices, whilst a dozen weary, dusty, trium- 
phant small boys stole back to bed through unlatched 
windows and doors carefully left open for a stealthy 
return. 


CHAPTEE XI. 


There was great wonder in Waddy next morning, 
and much argument. Neighbours discussed the sensa- 
tion with avidity. Mrs. Sloan, uncombed and in 
early morning deshahille^ with an apron thrown over 
her head, carried the news to Mrs. Justin’s back 
fence, and Mrs. J ustin ran with it to the back fence 
of Mrs. McKnight, and Mrs. McKnight spread the 
tidings as far as the house of Steven ; so the wonder 
grew, and families were called up at an unusually 
early hour, and sage opinions were thrown from side 
windows and handed over garden gates. An invasion 
of goats had happened at Waddy, a downpour of 
goats, an eruption of goats : goats were all over the 
place, and nobody knew whence they came or when 
they arrived. "Waddy’s own goats were many and 
various, but the invasion had quadrupled them, and 
goats were everywhere — bold, hungry, predatory 
goats — browsing, sleeping, battling, thieving, and 
filling the air with incessant pleadings. They invaded 
gardens and broke their way into kitchens and larders ; 
they assaulted children and in some cases offered fight 
to the mothers who went to eject them ; and here and 
there the billies of Waddy fought with the bearded 

m 


THE GOLD-STEALEKS. 


117 


usurpers long unsatisfactory contests, rearing and but- 
ting for hours, and doing each other no morsel of in- 
jury that anybody could discover. A few of the wo- 
men were out with buckets, making the most of the 
opportunity, milking all the nannies who would sub- 
mit ; and Devoy, with characteristic impetuosity, was 
already on the warpath, seeking vengeance on the 
person or persons whose act had led to the pillage of 
his vegetable beds. 

During all this the innocence of the boys of Wad- 
dy, particularly those boys who had composed Moon- 
lighter’s gang, was quite convincing. They had kept 
their secret well, and for some time no act of vandal- 
ism was suspected. In school during the morning 
they were most attentive, and particularly assiduous 
in the pursuit of knowledge ; and when the echoes of 
a disturbance in the township penetrated the school 
walls, Eichard Haddon and his friends may have ex- 
changed significant winks, but nothing in their general 
demeanour would have betrayed them to the ordinary 
intelligence. However, Joel Ham’s intelligence was 
not of the ordinary kind, and after looking up two or 
three times and catching the master’s little leaden eye 
fixed upon him with a glance of amused speculation, 
Dick began to feel decidedly uncomfortable. 

The first hint of the truth was brought to Waddy 
by an infuriated female from Cow Flat. She drove 
up in an old-fashioned waggon drawn by a lively and 
energetic but very ancient and haggard bay horse, with 
fiattened hoofs and a mere stump of a tail. She was 


118 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


tall and stout, with great muscular arms bare to the 
shoulder, and her face was pink with righteous indig- 
nation. This woman drove slowly up the one road of 
Waddy, and standing erect in her vehicle roundly 
abused the township from end to end. Crying her 
cause in a big strident voice, she insulted the inhabit- 
ants individually and in the mass, and wherever 
several people were assembled she pulled up and 
poured out upon them the vials of her wrath in a fine 
fiow of vituperation ; and after every few sentences 
she interpolated an almost pathetic plea to somebody, 
she did not care whom, to step forward and resent 
her criticism that she might have an opportunity of 
hammering decency and religion into the benighted 
inhabitants of an unregenerate place. 

^ Who stole the goats?’ she screamed, and, re- 
ceiving no answer, screamed the question from house 
to house. 

‘ Waddy’s a township of thieves an’ hussies! ’ she 
cried, ^thieves an’ hussies! Gimme me goats or I’ll 
have the law on you all — you low, mean stealers an’ 
robbers, ye! Who stole the goats? Who came by 
night an’ robbed a decent widdy woman of her beau- 
tiful goats? Who? Who? Who? Say you didn’t, 
someone ! Gi’ me the lie, you lot o’ gaol-birds an’ 
assassinators! ’ 

All Waddy turned out to hear, and many followed 
the woman up the road. The school children heard 
the noisy procession go by with amazement and re- 
gret, and the visitor grew shriller and fiercer as her 



STANDING ERECT IN HER VEHICLE ROUNDLY ABUSED THE TOWNSHIP 

FROM END TO END 







•l 




THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


119 


search progressed. At length she discovered what 
she declared to be one of her goats in the possession 
of Mrs. Hogan, and she left her waggon and charged 
the latter, who fled in terror, bolting all her doors and 
throwing np a barricade in the passage. But the 
stranger was not to be foiled : she sat down on the 
doorstep and proclaimed the house under siege, an- 
nouncing her intention to remain until she had 
wreaked her vengeance on Mrs. Hogan, and offering 
meanwhile to flght any four women of Waddy for 
mere diversion. 

It was not till the tired miners off the night shift 
had secured all the goats she pointed out as hers, tied 
their legs and packed them on her waggon, that the 
woman could be induced to leave ; and as she drove 
away she heaped further insult on the township, and 
from the distant toll-bar signalled a flnal gesture of 
contempt and loathing. 

This woman took back to Cow Flat her own expla- 
nation of the mystery of the lost goats, and in due 
time deputations from the rival township began to 
reach Waddy, so that the Great Goat Biot developed 
rapidly. It was long since friendly feeling had 
existed between Waddy and Cow Flat. There was a 
standing quarrel about sludge and the pollution of the 
waters of the creek ; there were political differences, 
too, and a flerce sporting rivalry. By the majority of 
the people of Cow Flat the purloining of their goats 
was accepted as further evidence of the moral deprav- 
ity and low origin of the people of Waddy, and the 


120 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


feeling between the townships was suddenly strained 
to a dangerous tension. 

The first few skirmishing parties from Cow Flat 
were composed of women and boys, and an undis- 
ciplined and rash pursuit of goats followed each visit. 
The nannies and billies, under stress of the new ex- 
citement, ran suddenly wild and developed a fieetness 
of foot, an expertness in climbing, and powers of en- 
durance hitherto all unsuspected by their owners ; so 
very few animals were recovered by the visitors. 

The hunt was continued throughout the next day. 
Goats were rushing wildly about the place from morn- 
ing till midnight pursued by their wrathful owners, 
to the detriment of the peace of Waddy and the un- 
doing of the tractable local milkers ; and at last a great 
resentment took possession of the matrons of the 
township — there were counter-attacks among the 
houses, rescue parties beset the women carrying off 
prizes, and a few skirmishes happened on the flat. 
Now the men were induced to take a hand, and there 
was talk of battle and pillage and sudden death. 

Devoy, pugnacious and vengeful, provoked the first 
serious struggle. Discovering a man of Cow Flat 
who claimed a small family of aggressive brown goats 
which he had marked out as the vandals that had 
wrought ruin amongst his well-kept beds, Devoy 
bearded the stranger and spoke of damages and broken 
heads, and his small son, Danny, a young Australian 
with a piquant brogue and a born love of ructions, 
moved round and incited him to bloodshed. 


THE GOLD-STEALEKS. 


121 


‘ Go fer him, daddy. Sure, ye can lick him wid 
one hand, dear,’ pleaded Danny. 

^ Yer dir-rty goats have ate me gar-rden, sor. 
D’ye moind me now? It’s ruined me gar-rden is on 
me,’ said Devoy aggressively. 

‘Hit him, daddy,’ screamed Danny. 

Devoy accepted the advice and struck the first blow. 
The man from Cow Flat was very willing, and they 
fought a long, destructive battle ; and through it all 
Danny danced about the ring, bristling with excite- 
ment and crying fierce and persistent encouragement 
to his sire. 

‘ Let him have it, daddy ! ’ ‘ How ye have him ! ’ 

‘ Good on you, daddy ! ’ ‘ Sure, you’ll do him ! ’ 
‘ One round more, daddy, an’ ye have him beat ! ’ 
These phrases, and shrill inarticulate cries of ap- 
plause and astonishment and joy, Danny reiterated 
breathlessly until his father was pronounced the vic- 
tor; then he took the battered hero fondly by the 
hand and led him away to be bathed and plastered 
and bandaged by a devoted wife and mother. 

The downfall of Devoy ’s opponent brought other 
champions from Cow Flat ; there were open fights in 
Wilson’s paddocks by day and assaults and sallies by 
night, and the bitterness deepened into hatred. 
Waddy now resisted every attempt to carry off the 
stolen goats, and parties coming from Cow Flat 
by night were content with any animals they could 
lay their hands on ; so for nearly a week the township 
was beset with alarums and excursions, and Jo Rogers, 


122 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


as its admitted champion, had more engagements on 
his hands than he could reasonably be expected to ful- 
fil in a month. 

Dickie and his accomplices were amazed at the de- 
velopments, and watched the trouble grow with the 
greatest concern. The contests on the open ground 
beyond the quarries were frequent and free, and then 
there came a lull ; but from Cow Flat came rumours 
of a grand coup meditated by the leaders on that 
side. Preparations were being made for an attack by 
a large body, and the forcible abduction of all the 
goats, irrespective of individual rights. The excite- 
ment had now reached fever heat, and there were 
few men in Waddy who were not ready, even 
anxious, to strike a blow for the preservation of the 
fiocks and herds and the credit of the township. 

On the side of approach from Cow Flat Waddy 
was protected for the greater part of the distance by 
the string of quarries; under the command of Big 
Peterson, who as an ex-soldier had some military 
reputation, logs were dragged from the bush, and the 
space between the end of the quarries and the fence 
of Summers’ south paddock was smartly barricaded. 
The defenders were armed with light sticks, and it 
was understood that these were to be used only if the 
enemy refused to abide by Nature’s weapons. 

All the mines in the vicinity of Waddy worked 
short-handed on the day of the Great Goat Riot ; the 
men, under the command of Captain Peterson, were 
sitting in bands, hidden from view in the quarries, 


THE GOLD-STEALEKS. 


123 


smoking, discussing the situation, and patiently await- 
ing the attack. They did not wait in vain. At 
about eleven o’clock a scout came in with the intelli- 
gence that a large body was advancing in irregular 
order through Wilson’s paddock, and a quarter of an 
hour later the men of Cow Flat swarmed out of the 
bush and over the fence and charged Waddy at a 
trot. 

^ Toe the scratch, men ! ’ yelled Peterson ; and the 
defenders of Waddy climbed out of the holes and 
presently turned a solid front to the enemy. The 
Cow Flat commander, who had expected to take the 
place by surprise, wavered at the sight of organised 
opposition and called a halt at the other edge of the 
quarries ; and invaders and besieged faced each other 
across the broken ground while the Cow Flat leaders 
held a council of war. On the level behind the en- 
trenched army the women of Waddy and their 
families were picknicking gaily on the grass, for it 
was accepted as a great gala day in the township, and 
flags of all shapes and colours, devised from all kinds 
of discarded garments, fluttered from tree-tops, chim- 
neys, posts, clothes-props, and any other eminence to 
which a streamer could be fastened. 

Perceiving their opponents reluctant to charge, 
Peterson’s command presently developed a fine flow 
of sarcasm. 

‘Won’t ye stip over, ye mud-gropers? ’ cried De- 
voy. ‘ It’s a nice little riciption we’ve arranged for 
yez.’ 


124 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


‘ Who stole the goats? ’ retorted the enemy. 

^ Sure, is it the bits of goats, then? Ye might 
come an’ take them if ye won’t be stayin’ all day 
there dishcussin’ polemics.’ Devoy was understood 
to be a man of learning and unequalled in argument. 

‘ Kidnappers an’ goat-stealers ! ’ yelled the foe. 

Devoy posed on a rock in an oratorical attitude. 

‘Ye came suspectin’ t’ have a foine aisy time the 
mornin’,’ he said. ‘ Yez contimplated playin’ the 
divil wid a big shtick among the weemin an’ the 
childther. Tom Moran, ye thunderin’ great ilephant 
av a man, d’ye think ye cud fight a sick hen on a 
fince?’ 

Moran replied with uproarious profanity and frantic 
pantomime, and the abuse became general and vocif- 
erous. Devoy mounted a larger rock and commenced 
a scathing harangue ; but a sod thrown by an invader 
took him in the mouth and toppled him over back- 
wards, so that he arose gasping and spitting and claw- 
ing dirt out of his beard, and made a rush for his 
enemy, mad for battle ; friends grappled with him and 
held him back, and he could only shriek defiance and 
rash challenges as the two parties moved along the 
quarries towards the log barricade. Here the men of 
Cow Flat halted again and their leaders conferred, but 
the rank-and-file were rapidly losing temper and re- 
straint under the black insults heaped upon them by 
the besieged. They scattered along the row of logs 
into a long thin line and the men of Waddy followed, 
till the two parties were almost man to man, facing 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


125 


each other, exchanging jibes and gestures of con- 
tempt. 

‘ Moran, ye scut ! don’t be skirmishin’ an’ in- 
thriguin’ t’ get forninst a shmall man. My meat ye 
are, an’ come on, ye — ye creepin’ infor-r-mer, 
ye! ’ 

It was the last insult. Moran led the charge, roar- 
ing like a goaded bullock, the two parties clashed over 
the logs, and in an instant comparative silence fell upon 
the men. The yelling, the derisive voices, and scof- 
fing laughter ceased, and nothing was heard but the 
sharp rattle of the strokes. The fight was fierce, ear- 
nest, and bloody ; all thoughts of the absurdity of the 
cause of contention had long since been forgotten, and 
the battle was as remorseless as if it were waged for 
an empire. 

The women had never expected anything serious to 
happen, and now they were dreadfully afraid. A 
valiant few took arms and joined in the fray by the 
sides of their husbands ; but the rest, finding after a 
few minutes that the fight raged furiously, gave 
way to bitter tears, and wailed protests from a safe 
distance, while the children followed their example 
with all the vigour of young lungs. 

In time Peterson and Devoy and Pogers found voice 
and yelled encouragement to their men, and sticks and 
fists worked grievous mischief. The Cow Flat men 
were at an enormous disadvantage in having to scale 
the logs to make headway ; whenever a hero did suc- 
ceed in gaining the top. Big Peterson, who moved 


126 


THE GOLD-STEALEKS. 


swiftly and tirelessly up and down the line, was there 
to cope with him, and he was hurled down, bruised and 
broken. The besiegers struggled valiantly, but it 
dawned on them in the course of ten minutes that they 
were waging a vain and foolish fight. A rally and a res- 
cue of Moran, who was on the point of being captured 
by the enemy, gave them an excuse to draw off, drag- 
ging their defeated leader beyond harm’s reach. A few 
moments later, in the midst of excited cheering and 
jeering, a number of the men became aware of a small, 
bare-headed, red-haired, white-faced boy standing on 
the logs between the foes, where he had stood whilst 
the fight was still waging, whirling his hat, and crying 
something at the top of his voice : 

^ The troopers ! The troopers ! The troopers ! ’ 

It was Dick Haddon, very frightened apparently, 
and ablaze with excitement. 

^ Don’t fight, don’t fight! ’ he cried. ‘ ’Twas me 
took the goats, an’ the troopers’re cornin’ ! Look, the 
troopers! ’ 

Sure enough, far off across the level country leading 
down to Yarraman, a small body of mounted police 
could be seen riding at a canter towards Waddy, their 
swords and cap-peaks glittering in the sun. The men 
stared in the direction pointed by Dick in silence, won- 
dering what this development might mean. Devoy 
was the first to move. Gripping Dick, he lifted him 
from the logs. 

‘ Eun, run, ye bla’gard ! ’ he said, ^ Fetch yer 
school football,’ 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


127 


Then as Dick hastened away Devoy took a com- 
manding position on the barricade. 

‘ Hear me, all of yez,’ he cried. ‘ Down wid yer 
sticks, every divil of yez ! Ton Cow Flat min, too, 
down wid ’em! Look it here — the troopers is cornin’. 
Shine have infor-rined on us in Yarraman. Moind, 
now, this is jist a bit of divarsion we’ve been 
havin’.’ 

The Waddy men had dropped their weapons, so 
also had most of their foes, and all gathered closer 
about Devoy. 

^ T’row away thim shticks,’ he yelled. ^D’ye 
want tin years fer riot, an’ murther, an’ dish- 
turbin’ the peace? Look peaceable, an’ frindly, 
an’ lovin’, if it’s in yez so to do. Moran, ye 
sulky haythen, wud ye be bangin’ the lot av us? 
Shmile ’r I’ll black the other oye of ye! Shmile, 
ye hi-potomus ! ’ 

At this instant the line of troopers rode in between 
the parties, with a clattering of scabbard and chain. 
The sergeant drew his foaming bay up sharp and con- 
fronted Devoy. 

^What is the meaning of this, my man?’ he 
demanded. 

‘ Meanin’ which, sor? ’ Devoy cocked a black and 
swollen eye at the officer, and smiled innocently over 
a lacerated chin. 

^ Meaning this.’ The trooper waved a white glove 
over the congregation. 

‘ Sure, it’s a bit of a game only — a bit of a frindly 


128 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


game o’ football, as ye may see wid the own eyes 
of ye.’ 

Dick’s football bad just bounced in between the 
opposing bodies. The officer ran his eye over the 
crowd, noting the broken heads, the bruises, and the 
bloodstains. 

‘ You play football in a funny way at Waddy,’ he 
said. 

‘ We play it wid ^Tithusiasm.’ 

‘ Enthusiasm ! I should say you played it with 
shillelahs. Do you always get cracked skulls and 
black eyes when you play football ? ’ 

‘ It’s our pleasant way, sor.’ 

^ Is it? Well, how the devil do you play football? 
What is the meaning of this pile of logs? ’ 

‘ Meaning the fince, sergeant? It’s this way: we 
of Waddy stands on this side, an’ thim of Cow Flat 
forninst us on the other side, an’ we kicks it over t’ 
thim, an’ they kicks it back to ourselves, an’, sure, 
the side what kicks it over the most frequent wins. 
Would you like t’ see, sergeant? ’ 

The miners grinned, the troopers giggled, and the 
sergeant began to feel huffy. 

^’Tention! ’ he cried. ‘Who won this precious 
game? ’ 

Devoy pinched his chin tenderly and grimaced. It 
was hard to abandon the glory of a well-won battle, 
but there was no option. 

‘ It was a dthraw,’ he said manfully. 

‘ And what were you playing for? ’ 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


129 


^Playin’ for? Oh, fer natural love an’ affection, 
nothin’ more, barrin’ a few goats.’ 

‘ Goats, eh? Now look here, my fine fellow, we 
were told there was to be riot and fighting here over 
those goats. I don’t believe a word of your cock-and- 
bull story about football, and for two pins I’d clap a 
few of you where you wouldn’t play again for some 
time to come. Now you’d all better settle this goat 
business while my men are here, and take my advice 
and drop football if you want to keep on the comfort- 
able and airy side of a gaol. Now then, you fellows 
from the Flat, round up your goats and look slippy in 
getting out of this.’ 

Devoy was the picture of outraged innocence. 

^ Tut, tut, tut ! ’ he said mournfully, ^ an’ see how 
they take off the characther of dacent, paceable, lovin’ 
min. ’Twas a tinder an’ frindly game we was play- 
in’, sergeant, but if ye will break it up, sure I’m a 
law-abidin’ man. We did intind t’ axe the min av 
Cow Flat t’ have the bite an’ sup wid us at the ban- 
quit this night, but we rispict the law, an’ we say 
nothin’ agin it. But, sor, if ever yer men would be 
likin’ a game of football, we ’ 

‘ Get down, you ruffian ! ’ said the sergeant, grin- 
ning, and rode his horse at Devoy. 

So the Great Goat Eiot was settled, and under the 
eye of the sergeant and his troopers the goats of Cow 
Flat were drafted from those of Waddy. It was a 
diffcult task, and was not accomplished without trou- 
ble and argument and minor hostilities : but the judg- 


130 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


ment of the sergeant, who seemed to be aware of the 
whole merits of the case, was final, so that in due 
time the men of Cow Flat departed driving their 
goats before them, and comparative peace fell upon 
Waddy once more. 


CHAPTEE XII. 


All tliroiigli the next day Waddy was very calm; 
it was repenting recent rash actions and calculating 
laboriously. At the Drovers’ Arms that evening sev- 
eral members of the School Committee compared con- 
clusions and resolved that something must be done. It 
was evident that the youth of the township, under 
the leadership of ^ the boy Haddon,’ had dragged 
Waddy into a nasty squabble, some of the results of 
which were unpleasantly conspicuous on the faces and 
heads of prominent committeemen. Then the rav- 
aged gardens had to be taken into consideration. 
Calmer judgment had convinced the residents that 
the destruction wrought was not all due to goats, and 
there was a general desire to visit the responsibility 
on the true culprits, whose identity was shrewdly 
suspected. 

Friday was rather an eventful day at the school. 
The boys had heard of the meeting and expected seri- 
ous developments. Mrs. Ben Steven called in the 
morning. She was a tall heavily-framed woman, 
short-tempered, and astonishingly voluble in her 
wrath. She had selected Eichard Haddon as the van- 
dal who had despoiled her cabbage-patch, and was 


132 


THE GOLD-STEALEKS. 


seeking a just revenge. Already she had called upon 
Mrs. Haddon and delivered a long, loud, and fierce 
public lecture to the startled little widow on the moral 
responsibilities of parents, and the need they have of 
faithfully and regularly thrashing their sons as a duty 
they owe to their neighbors. Now it was her inten- 
tion to incite Joel Ham to administer an adequate 
caning to the boy, or to do herself the bare justice of 
soundly spanking the culprit. She bounced into the 
school, angry, bare-armed, and eager for the fray, and 
all the children sat up and wondered. 

‘ I’ve come about that boy Haddon,’ said Mrs. Ben. 
Joel Ham blinked his pale lashes and regarded her 
thoughtfully, in peaceful and good-humoured contrast 
with her own haste and heat. 

‘Have you, indeed, ma’am?’ he said softly. 

‘ Have I, indeed ! ’ cried the woman, bridling again 
at a hint of sarcasm ; ‘ can’t you see I have? ’ 
‘Madam, you are very obvious.’ 

‘Am I, then! Well, look here, you; you’ve got 
to cane the hide off that boy. ’ 

‘ You surprise me, Mrs. Steven. For what? ’ 

‘ For break in’ into my garden an’ robbiu’ me. 
Nice way you’re teachin’ these boys, ain’t you? 
Makin’ thieves an’ stealers of ’em. Now, tell me, 
do you mean to thrash him ? ’ 

Joel considered the matter calmly, pinching his 
under lip and blinking at Mrs. Ben in a pensive, 
studious way. 

‘ No, ma’am, I do not.’ 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


133 


‘ For why? ’ cried the woman. 

^ I am not the public hangman, Mrs. Steven.’ 

Mrs. Steven could not see the relevance of the 
excuse, and her anger rose again. 

‘Then, sir. I’ll thrash him myself, now an’ here.’ 

The master sighed lieavily and clambered on to liis 
high stool, took his black bottle from his desk, and 
deliberately refreshed himself, oblivious apparently to 
the lady’s threat and forgetting her presence. 

‘ Do you hear me, Joel Ham? ’ Mrs. Ben Steven 
beat heavily on the desk with the palm of her large 
hand. ‘ I’ll wdiack him myself.’ 

‘ Certainly, ma’am, certainly — if you can catch 
him.’ 

Dick accepted this as a kindly hint and dived under 
a couple of desks as Mrs. Steven rushed his place. 
The chase was obviously useless from the first; the 
woman had not a possible chance of catching Dick 
amongst the forms, but she tried while her breath 
lasted, rushing in and out amongst the classes, knock- 
ing a child over here and there, boxing; the ears of 
others when they got in her way, and creating con- 
fusion and unbounded delight everywhere. The 
cliildren were overjoyed, but Gable was much con- 
cerned for Dick, and stood up in his place ejaculating 
‘ Crickey ! ’ in a loud voice and following the hunt 
with frightened eyes. 

Meanwhile Joel Ham, B.A., sat at his desk, con- 
templating the roof with profound interest, and 
taking a casual mechanical pull at his bottle. Joel 


134 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


was in a peculiar position : he was selected by the 
people of Waddy and paid by them, and had to defer 
to their wishes to some extent; and, besides, Mrs. 
Ben Steven was a large, powerful, indignant woman, 
and he a small, slim man. 

Mrs. Steven stood in front of the classes until she 
had recovered sufficient breath to start a fierce tirade ; 
then, one hand on her hip and the other out-thrown, 
she thundered abuse at Richard Haddon and all his 
belongings. The master bore this for two or three 
minutes ; then he slid from his stool, seized his longest 
cane, and thrashing the desk — his usual demand for 
order — he faced Mrs. Ben and, pointing to the door, 
cried : 

‘Out! ’ 

The woman backed away a step and regarded him 
with some amazement. He was not a bit like the 
everyday Joel Ham, but quite imperious and fierce. 

‘ Out ! ’ he said, and the long cane whistled threat- 
eningly around and over her. 

She backed away a few steps more; Joel followed 
her up, cutting all around her with the lightning play 
of an expert swordsman, just missing by the fraction 
of an inch, and showing a face that quite subdued the 
virago. Mrs. Steven backed to the door. 

‘ Out ! ’ thundered Ham, and she fled, banging the 
door between her and the dangerous cane. 

‘ Oh crickey ! ’ cried Gable in a high squeak that 
set the whole school laughing boisterously. 

Mrs. Ben Steven reappeared at one of the windows. 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


135 


and threatened terrible things for Ham when her Ben 
returned ; but Joel was consoling himself with his 
bottle again and was not in the least disturbed, and a 
minute later the school was plunged in a studious 
silence. 

Peterson and Cann called late in the afternoon, as 
representatives of the School Committee. 

^ We’ve come fer your permission to ask some ques- 
tions of the boy Haddon, Mr. Ham, sir,’ said 
Peterson. 

Joel received a great show of respect from most of 
the men of Waddy in consideration of his position and 
scholarship. 

Dick was called out and faced the men, firm-lipped 
and with unconquerable resolution in the set of his 
face and the gleam of his eye. 

‘ ’Bout this job o’ goat-stealin’ ? ’ said Cann, with 
a grave judicial air. 

‘ They stole my billy. I went to fetch him back, 
an’ all the other goats come too,’ Dick answered. 

‘ Who helped? ’ 

‘ Just a dog — a sheep an’ cattle dog.’ 

‘ What boys? ’ 

^ Dunno ! ’ 

The examination might as well have ended there. 
It is a point of honour amongst all schoolboys never to 
‘ split ’ on mates. The boy who tells is everywhere 
regarded as a sneak — at Waddy he speedily became 
a pariah — and Dick was a stickler for points of 
honour. To be caned was bad, but nothing to the 


136 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


gnawing shame of long weeks following upon a cow- 
ardly breach of faith. To all the questions Cann or 
Peterson could put with the object of eliciting the 
names of the participators in the big raid, Dick re- 
turned only a distressing and wofully stupid ‘ Dunno ! ’ 

Peterson scratched his head helplessly, and turned 
an eye of appeal upon the master. 

^ Yery well,’ said Cann, ^ we’ll just have to guess 
at the other boys, an’ their fathers’ll be prevailed on 
to deal with ’em; but this boy what’s been the ring- 
leader ain’t got no father, an’ it don’t seem fair to the 
others to leave his punishment to a weak woman, 
does it? ’ 

Peterson’s eye appealed to the master again. ‘ Not 
fair an’ square to the other boys,’ he added philo- 
sophically. 

Joel Ham shook his head. 

^ I teach your children,’ he said. ‘ I neither hang 
nor flagellate your criminals.’ 

^No, no, a-course not,’ said Peterson. 

^ Might you be able to spare us this boy fer the 
rest o’ the afternoon, in the name o’ the committee?’ 
asked Cann. ‘ We’ll go an’ argue with his mother 
to leave the lickin’ of him to the committee.’ 

‘As a question o’ public interest,’ said Peterson. 

The master consented to this, and Dick was led 
away between the two men. The interview with 
Mrs. Haddon took place in the widow’s garden. 
Mrs. Haddon quite understood what it meant when 
Peterson entered with Dick in custody. 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


137 


‘Good day, Mrs. Haddon,’ said tlie big man gin- 
gerly. ‘ O’ course you know all ’bout the trouble o’ 
those goats.’ 

‘Made by you stupid men, mostly,’ said Mrs. 
Had don. 

Peterson stammered and appealed to Cann — he had 
not expected argument. 

‘ What we men did, ma’am,’ said Cann, ‘was to 
protect our property. If the goats hadn’t bin 
brought here there wouldn’t ’a’ bin any need fer 
that. Not to mention garden robbin’ before, an’ 
broken fences an’ such.’ 

‘The School Committee, ma’am,’ said Peterson, 

‘ has drawed up a list of suspects, an’ the fathers of 
the boys named will lambaste ’em all thorough. Now 
it occurred to the committee that your boy, bein’ the 
worst o’ the pack, an’ havin’ confessed, oughter get 
a fair share o’ the hammerin’.’ 

‘ An’ you’ve come to offer to do it? ’ 

‘ That’s just it, ma’am, if you’ll be so kind.’ 

Mrs. Haddon had a proper sense of her public 
duties, a due appreciation of the extent of Dick’s 
wickedness, and a full knowledge of her own ineffi- 
ciency as a scourger. She looked down and debated 
anxiously with herself, carefully avoiding Dick’s eye, 
and Dick watched her all the time, but did not speak 
a vrord or make a single plea. 

‘ Can’t I beat my own boy? ’ she asked angrily. 

‘ To be certain sure, ma’am, but you’re a small bit 
of a woman, an’ it don’t seem altogether square 


138 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


dealin’ fer the others to get a proper hidin’ an’ him 
not. ’Sides, ’twould satisfy public feelin’ better if 
one of us was to lam him. Sound, ma’am, but judi- 
cious,’ said Cann. 

‘An’ ’twould save you further trouble,’ added 
Peterson. ‘ ’Twould ease the mind o’ Mrs. Ben 
Steven. ’ This latter was a weighty argument. Mrs. 
Haddon’s terror of the big woman with the terrible 
tongue was very real. 

‘ Well, well, well,’ she said pitifully. ‘ You — you 
won’t beat him roughly? ’ 

‘I’m a father, as you know, ma’am,’ said 
Peterson, ‘ an’ know what’s a fair thing by a 
boy.’ 

Cann was unbuckling his belt, and the widow stood 
trembling, clasping and unclasping her hands. It 
was a severe ordeal, but public spirit prevailed. Mrs. 
Haddon turned and fled into the house, and shutting 
herself in her bedroom buried her head in the pillows 
and wept. 

Ten minutes later she was called out, and Dick was 
delivered into her hands. 

‘ Better lock him up fer the night,’ said Peterson, 
looking in a puzzled way at Dick. 

The boy had not shed a tear nor uttered a cry. He 
stood stock still under the flailing, and the heart went 
out of Peterson. Had Dick fought or struggled, it 
would have been all right and natural; but this was 
such a cold-blooded business, and a strange but strong- 
ly-felt superiority of spirit in the boy awed and con- 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


139 


fused the big man, and the beating was but gingerly 
done after all. 

‘Come, Dickie, dear,’ said Mrs. Haddon, in a peni- 
tent tone and with much humility. 

She led the boy into his room, and there addressed 
a diffident and halting speech to him. There were 
times when Mrs. Haddon had a sense of being younger 
and weaker than her son, and this was one of them. 
She felt it her duty to tell Dick of the sinfulness of 
his conduct, and to try to justify the punishment, but 
her words fell ineptly from lier lips, — she knew them 
to be vain against the power that held Dick silent and 
tearless, and yet without a trace of boyish stubborn- 
ness. She was not a very wise little woman, or her 
son’s force of character might have been turned early 
to good works and profitable courses. 

In truth the thrashing had had an extraordinary 
efiEect on Richard Haddon. For a boy to be kicked, 
or clouted, or tweaked by strange men is the fortune 
of war — it is a mere everyday incident, the natural 
and accepted fate of all boys, and is swiftly resented 
with a jibe or a missile and forgotten on the spot ; 
but to be taken in cold blood by one strange man, not 
a schoolmaster or in any way privileged, and deliber- 
ately and systematically larruped with a belt under 
the eyes of another, is burning shame. It tortured 
all Dick’s senses into revolt, and awakened in him a 
hatred of what he looked upon as the injustice and 
cowardliness of the outrage that was too deep and too 
bitter for trivial complaints. 


140 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


Dick’s temperament was poignantly romantic, and 
the natural tendency had been fed and nourished by 
indiscriminate reading. The Waddy Public Library, 
in point of fact, was largely responsible for many of 
the minor worries and big troubles Dick had been in- 
strumental in visiting on the township. The ^ lib’ry ’ 
was in the hands of a few men whose literary tastes 
were decidedly crude, with a strong leaning towards 
piracy on the high seas, brigandage, buccaneering, 
and sudden death. Dick read all print that came in 
his way. Once he started a book he felt in honour 
bound to finish it, however difficult the task. To set 
it aside would be a confession of mental weakness. 
For this reason he had once, during a week of humili- 
ation, fought his w^ay stubbornly through Tapper’s 
^Proverbial Philosophy.’ But it was the rampant 
fiction that influenced him most directly. He took 
his romance very seriously ; his vivid sympathies were 
always with the poor persecuted pirate driven to law- 
less courses by systematic oppression at school, or by a 
cold proud father’s failure to appreciate the humour of 
his youthful villainies. The bushranger, too, urged 
from milder courses of crime by the persecutions of 
the police, found in Dick a devoted friend. It never 
occurred to the boy that the excuses given were any- 
thing but adequate and satisfactory justification for 
pillage and arson and homicide. 

On leaving Dick’s room, Mrs. Haddon locked the 
door very carefully and quietly. She suspected that 
he was planning mischief that would lead to further 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


141 


trouble, and hoped that by next morning he would be 
in a frame of mind to be won over by a little mother- 
ly strategy. But she went about her work with a 
heavy heart. Later she took the impenitent young 
^ duffer ’ a tea cunningly designed to appeal to his 
rebellious heart, and spread it neatly on the big dim- 
ity-covered box in his bedroom ; but Dick was impla- 
cable. 

In the evening the widow had a visitor in whom 
she could confide without reservation. Christina 
Shine had called about her new dress for the Sunday 
School anniversary, and the weakest and most indul- 
gent of mothers could not have wished for a more 
sympathetic confidant than big Miss Chris, who saved 
all her tears for other people’s troubles. 

‘You know, dear,’ murmured Mrs. Haddon. ‘I 
can’t change Dickie’s nature. He’s wild, an’ he 
thinks he’s all kinds of ridiculous people, an’ they 
lead him into mischief. ’ 

‘ Poor Dick ! I shouldn’t have let them beat him,’ 
said Chris, flushing with indignation. 

‘ An’ he’s just as eager for good, you know,’ con- 
tinued the widow, ‘ but then nobody makes any fuss 
over him when he does something really creditable. ’ 

Chris nodded her head reproachfully. ‘ Even 
father forgets,’ she said. 

Miss Chris had enormous faith in her father and a 
great affection for him, and his want of consideration 
for the boy who she believed had saved him from much 
suffering, if not a slow and terrible death, was a trait 


142 


THE GOLD-STEALEKS. 


in his character that gave her a good deal of con- 
cern. 

^Dickie thinks a lot of yon, Christina,’ said Mrs. 
Haddon. ^ P’r’aps if yon went an’ spoke a few words 
with him he might be persuaded to overlook what’s 
past.’ 

‘ Yes, yes,’ said Chris brightly. 

‘ Tell him how much trouble he is givin’ his poor 
mother, who’d be alone but for him. Yon might 
dwell on that, my dear, will you? ’ 

‘ I will, of course; and it’s true, too.’ 

^ It always seems to soften him. If it doesn’t, you 
can hint I’m not very well to-night.’ 

Miss Chris, who stood head and shoulders above her 
friend, laid an affectionate hand upon the plump and 
rosy widow. 

^ When he’s unmanageable other ways I take ill for 
a little while, you know,’ said the widow mournfully. 
‘Come in,’ she cried in answer to a sharp knock at 
the door. 

The caller w^as Harry Hardy. He stopped short in 
confusion on beholding Christina Shine, and Chris 
blushed warmly in answering his curt ‘ Good evening. ’ 

‘ I called to see Dick ’bout that tin dish,’ he said, 
beating his leg with his hat in an obvious effort to 
appear at his ease. 

Mrs. Haddon glanced sharply from Harry to Chris 
and conceived a new interest. 

‘ I will go to Dickie, ’ said Chris, taking the key 
from the widow. 


THE GOLD-STEALEKS. 


143 


Mrs. Haddon explained to Harry when they were 
alone, and added insinuatingly : 

‘ That’s a dear good girl.’ 

^ Shine’s daughter? ’ said Harry with emphasis. 

‘ Yes, Shine’s daughter, an’ she’s as good as he 
pretends to he.’ 

Harry contrived to look quite vindictive and gave 
no answer, and a minute later Chris returned. Dick 
had barred his door on the other side and would give 
her no reply. 

‘ The window ! ’ cried Mrs. Haddon. 

Harry hastened out and around the house. Finding 
the window of Dick’s room unlatched he threw it up 
and climbed into the room. The door was barred 
with a chair; this he removed, and Mrs. Haddon 
entered with a candle. There was no sign of the boy, 
but pinned on the wall was a large strip of paper on 
which was written in bold letters : 

^ Good-bye for ever. I’ve run away to be a bush- 
ranger. — Dick Haddok. P.S. — Pursuit is useless.’ 

The widow sank upon the edge of the bed and 
mopped her tears with a snow-white apron. 

^ That means that I sha’n’t see him for two days at 
least,’ she said, ‘unless I’m either taken very ill or 
attacked by a burglar. Why, why can’t a poor 
woman be allowed to bring up her own children in her 
own way? ’ 

Chris was soothing and Harry reassuring. 

‘ He knows how to take care of himself. He’ll be 
all right,’ cried the young man heartily. 


144 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


^ If you could get some o’ the boys to let him know 
I wasn’t safe from a sundowner, or a drunken drover, 
or someone, I’d be much obliged, ’ said Mrs. Haddon. 

‘ Very well,’ replied Harry, laughing. ‘ I’ll man- 
age that.’ 

Mrs. Haddon smiled through her tears, much com- 
forted, and turned her mind to other things. Within 
the space of about two minutes she had satisfied her- 
self that no woman in all the world would make Harry 
Hardy a better wife than Christina Shine, and, being 
convinced, it was manifestly her duty to help the good 
cause. 

‘Won’t you stay awhile an’ keep me company, 
Christina? ’ she asked. ‘ Harry’ll see you home.’ 

Miss Chris would stay with pleasure, but she 
couldn’t think of troubling Mr. Hardy, and she said 
so with a girl’s shyness. Mr. Hardy stammered a 
little and tried to say that it would be no trouble at 
all, but the effort was not a brilliant success considered 
as a compliment. He longed to stay, and yet hated 
and feared to stay. This anomalous frame of mind 
was new ; it confused and staggered him. He seemed 
to be swayed by an external impulse, and resented it 
with miserable self-deceit. But he stayed. 

Harry did not greatly enrich the conversation dur- 
ing the hour spent in Mrs. Haddon ’s kitchen, but he 
found his eyes drawn to the handsome profile of 
Christina Shine, standing out in its soft fairness against 
the dark wall like a wonderfully carven cameo. Her 
hair, turned back in beautifully flowing lines, helped 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


145 


the queenly suggestion. Harry looked resolutely 
away ; then he heard her voice^ sweet and low, and 
recollected that beside himself no man, woman, or 
child in Waddy was mean enougli to cherish a hard 
thought of Miss Chris. Beside himself! He turned 
fiercely, as if for refuge, to his dislike for her father. 
His failure to find the smallest clue to justify his opin- 
ion and tliat of his mother as to the real merits of the 
crime at the Silver Stream left him more bitter 
towards the searcher, the one man whose words and 
actions had convicted Frank. He would not admit his 
hatred to be unfair or unreasonable, and his morose- 
ness deepened as time showed him how heavily the 
disgrace and sorrow lay upon his mother, although 
her words were always cheerful and her faith uncon- 
querable. 

The walk home that night was not a pleasant one to 
Chris. She was piteously anxious to have him think 
kindly of her, and this made itself felt through Harry’s 
roughest mood; then he had an absurd impulse to 
throw out his arms and offer her protection and ten- 
derness. Absurd because, turning towards her, he 
was compelled to look upwards into her eyes, and the 
tall, strong figure at his side, walking erect, with firm 
square shoulders, dwarfed his conceit till he felt him- 
self morally and physically a pigmy. 

Their conversation drifted to dangerous ground. 

‘Have you found nothing to help poor Frank?’ 
she asked. 

‘Hothing,’ he said sharply and suspiciously. 


146 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


^ I am sorry. Oh ! how I wish I could aid you ! ’ 

‘There’s one man that might do that, but he 
won’t. ’ 

‘One man? One? You said that strangely. One 
man? Who would be so brutal? ’ 

Ilis silence stung her. She turned sharply. 

‘ Oh, you don’t mean — surely, surely you don’t 
mean father? ’ 

Again he did not answer. 

‘ It is not right,’ she cried out. ‘ You can have no 
reason to think that. You say it to hurt me.’ 

‘ I didn’t say it.’ 

‘ You meant it — you mean it still.’ 

She quickened her pace and they exchanged no 
more words until the walk was ended, then she gave 
him her hand over the gate. 

‘Good-night,’ she said. ‘ You were more gener- 
ous as a boy, Harry. ’ 

He took her hand. It was ungloved, and felt small 
and tender in his hard palm. The touch awoke a 
sudden passion in him. Both of his hands held hers, 
his head bent over it, and he blurted something in 
apology. ‘ Don’t mind me ! I didn’t mean it ! Please, 

please ’ He did not know what he was saying, 

and the words were too low and confused to reach her 
ears ; but she went up the garden path with an elate 
bird in her heart singing such a song of gladness that 
the world was filled with its music, and the girl knew 
its meaning and yet wondered at it. 

Harry stood nervously gripping the pickets of the 


THE GOLD-STEALEES* 


147 


gate and gazed after her, and continued gazing for 
many minutes when she had gone. Then he swung 
off into the bush, walking rapidly, and was glad in a 
stern rebellious way — glad in spite of his mission, in 
spite of his brother, in spite of and defiance of every- 
thing. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


Meanwhile matters of interest were progressing 
below at the Mount of Gold mine. The juvenile 
shareholders of the Company had done a fair amount 
of work in the soft reef of the new drive at odd 
times during the last fortnight ; and the drive, which 
diminished in circumference as it progressed, and 
threatened presently to terminate in a sharp point, 
had been driven in quite fifteen feet. But to-night 
the young prospectors were not interested in mining 
operations. On top Dick Haddon’s big billy-goat 
was feeding greedily on the lush herbage of the Gaol 
Quarry ; below, Dick and his boon companions were 
preparing for a tremendous adventure. 

After escaping from his room Dick had hunted up 
Jacker Mack, Phil Doon, and Billy Peterson. He 
came upon the two former at a propitious time, when 
both were slowly recovering from the physical effects 
of an ‘ awful doing ’ administered by their respective 
fathers at the instigation of the School Committee ; 
when they were still filled with bitterness towards all 
mankind, and satisfied that life was hollow and vain, 
and there was no happiness or peace for a well- 
meaning small boy on this side of the grave. Peter - 

148 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


149 


son had succeeded in avoiding the head of his house 
so far, but was filled with anxiety, Dick easily per- 
suaded all three to accompany him to the mine, there 
to discuss the situation and plot a fitting revenge. 

His proposal was that they should all turn bush- 
rangers on the spot, form a band to ravage and lay 
waste the country, and visit upon society the just con- 
sequences of its rashness and folly in tyrannising over 
its boys, misunderstanding them, and misconstruing 
their highest and noblest intentions. 

‘ When anyone shakes our goats, ain’t we a right 
to demand ’em back at the point o’ the sword?’ 
asked Dick indignantly. 

The boys were unanimous. They had such a right 
— nay, it was a bounden duty. 

^ Very well, then, what’d they wanter lick us fer? ’ 
continued Dick. ^ Won’t they be sorry when they 
hear about us turnin’ bushrangers, that’s all ! ’ 

‘D’ye really think they will, though?’ asked 
Jacker McKnight dubiously. He had found his 
parents very unromantic people, who took a severely 
commonplace view of things, and retained unquestion- 
ing faith in the strap as a means of elevating the 
youthful idea. 

‘ Why, o’ course ! ’ cried Dick. ‘ When our 
mothers read in the papers ’bout the lives we’re 
leadin’, it’ll make ’em cry all night ’cause o’ the way 
we’ve been treated ; an’ you coves’ fathers’ll hear 
tell o’ yer great adventures, an’ they’ll know what 
sort o’ chaps they knocked about an’ abused, an’ 


150 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


they’ll respect you an’ wish you was back home so’s 
they could make up for the fatal past.’ 

Jacker looked doubtful still ; he could not imagine 
liis parents in that character; but Peterson was 
delighted with the prospect, and Phil Boon, whose 
mother was a large, stout woman, who spent half her 
day in bed reading sentimental stories, was quite 
impressed, and enlisted on the spot. 

‘ You’ll be my lieutenant, you know, Jacker,’ said 
Dick; ^ an’ we’ll call you Fork Lightnin’.’ 

‘ Hoo! Will you, though? ’ cried Jacker. 

Dick nodded and made an affirmative noise between 
his closed lips. 

‘^Fork Lightnin’,’ said Jacker, trying the name. 
‘ Sounds well, don’t it? What sorter feller will I be? 
Brave, eh ? ’ 

‘ Frightened o’ neither man nor devil, but awful 
cruel, ’cause you was crossed in love.’ 

Jacker was delighted. He was naturally a combat- 
ive youth, with a fine contempt for rules that would 
deny him the advantages to be derived from his ability 
as a swift and vigorous kicker; so a bloodthirsty and 
rebellious character was quite to his taste. 

‘Not crossed in love, though,’ he complained. 
‘ That seems measley, don’t it? S’pose I shot a man 
once, an’ the p’lice won’t let me have no peace.’ 

‘ Good enough ! ’ said Dick. 

‘ Then I’m in. When do we start?’ 

‘ To-morrer night. We want one more. Twitter 
will come. That’ll be five. Five is a fine gang; 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


151 


sides, we don’t want fellers what ain’t got billies. 
Bushrangers ain’t no account on foot. My men must 
be all mounted. So I propose we meet on the toll-bar 
road just when it’s gettin’ dark, all riding our billy- 
goats an’ armed to the teeth; an’ we’ll stick up all the 
Cow Flat people goin’ home from Yarraman.’ 

‘ My word ! ’ cried Phil ecstatically. ^ We owe it to 
that lot.’ 

^ Couldn’t we start now? ’ said Peterson, who had 
been sitting with wide eyes and open mouth, and was 
consumed with impatience. 

‘ Oh, no,’ said Dick; ‘ we gotter prepare our arms 
an’ ammunition an’ things. An’ Saturdee night’s best, 
’cause the Cow Flats what have been to Yarraman 
buyin’ things come up to the Drovers’ Arms on the 
coach, an’ walk home from there.’ 

It was agreed that Peterson should stay with Dick 
in the mine that night. The boys had no longer any 
fear of the black hole discovered at the end of the 
main drive. An exploring party had made its way 
through the opening and into the workings beyond, and 
had found itself in a drive communicating with the 
Eed Fland shaft. Dick, who once in an emergency liad 
served as tool-boy in the Silver Stream for a fortnight, 
knew that at a lower level there was another and a 
much longer Eed Hand drive by which access to the 
Silver Stream 'No. 1 workings was possible; but he 
kept this knowledge to himself. 

Shortly after midnight Dick and Billy ventured to 
return to Waddy, with the idea of securing Billy’s goat, 


152 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


Hector, a sturdy black brute mucli admired as the most 
inveterate ‘ rusher ’ in the country. With the boys of 
Waddy a goat that butted or ^ ruslied ’ was highly 
prized as an animal of spirit. Peterson caught his goat, 
and then Dick, with unnecessary wariness and great 
waste of stratagem, ‘ stuck up ’ his own home, and 
secured a parcel of food carefully left for him on the 
table near the unlatched window by a thoughtful 
mother. 

On Saturday the other boys turned up at the ap- 
pointed time. There were rules commanding the ut- 
most caution in entering the mine by daylight. Every 
care had to be taken to satisfy the shareholders that no 
stranger was in sight, and the last boy was compelled 
to keep a vigilant look-out while the others were de- 
scending, and then to make his way to the opening by 
a roundabout route, exercising a vigilance that would 
have puzzled an army of black- trackers. 

Dick, who before leaving home had rifled his small 
savings bank, had provided Jacker Mack with money 
for supplies, and J acker brought with him a pound of 
candles, some black material for masks, and half a 
dozen packets of Chinese crackers. The Chinese 
crackers represented cartridges for the pistols of Red 
Hand’s gang. Dick had decided to be known as Red 
Hand. The pistols were made by fashioning a piece 
of soft wood in the shape of a stock, and securing to 
this a scrap of hollow bone for a barrel. Into the 
barrel a cracker was thrust, the wick was ignited at a 
piece of smouldering ‘ punk ’ — which could be carried 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


153 


in the pocket in a tin matchbox — and it only needed 
tlie exercise of a little imagination to satisfy oneself 
that the resulting explosion spread death and desolation 
in the ranks of the enemy. 

All preliminaries were arranged during the after- 
noon : in the evening, just before night fell, Dick and 
Peterson, hidden with their trusty steeds amongst the 
saplings about three hundred yards beyond the toll-bar, 
awaited the coming of their companions in crime. They 
had not long to wait ; in a few minutes Jacker Mack, 
Ted, and Phil Doon came riding up the dusty track 
on their brave billies. They were accompanied by a 
pedestrian, an interloper, who lurked behind and evi- 
dently did not anticipate a friendly reception. It was 
Gable. 

' ‘ He saw us cornin’ an’ he would foller,’ explained 
Jacker. 

‘Yah! ’ cried Dick in disgust; ‘why didn’t you 
boot him? ’ 

‘ So I did. Fat lot o’ good that done. He on’y 
bellered like a bullock, an’ kep’ on follerin’. We pre- 
tended we wasn’t goin’ nowhere, but he just hung 
round an’ couldn’t be fooled.’ 

Dick approached the old man threateningly. 

‘ Clear out ! ’ he said. 

Gable put up a defensive elbow and backed away, 
knuckling his eye piteously the while. 

‘ ’E’ you goin’ ? ’ cried Dick, and kicked Gable just 
as he would have kicked any inconvenient and mutin- 
ous youngster in the same case. 


154 


THE GOLD-STEALEKS. 


^ You look out whatclier doin’,’ muttered the old 
man, skipping about to avoid the second kick. I’ll 
get someone what’ll show you,’ he added darkly. 

Dick ran at him with a big stick, but Gable only 
retreated a few yards. lie threw stones, knocking up 
the dust about the old man’s feet, and Gable hopped 
and skipped with the agility of a kid ; but after each 
attack he returned humbly to the heels of the party 
like a too faithful dog. 

^Better let him come, I s’ pose,’ said Dick at last. 
‘ Come on, nuisance ! ’ 

Gamble jigged up, radiant, and grinning all over 
his face. 

Bed Hand selected a suitable clump of saplings 
about half a mile from the toll-bar, and the gang 
secreted themselves and made preparation for the first 
attack. They carried their ‘ cartridges ’ loose in small 
bags hung from their belts, in which were thrust three 
or four of the bone-barrelled pistols. Black masks 
were donned, Fork Lightning was stationed on a stump 
near by to give warning of the approach of a victim, 
and the others took up suitable positions, while Dick 
fitted Gable with a mask so that his appearance might 
not discredit the gang. 

^ There,’ said Dick, ^ you’re a bushranger now, re- 
member. ’ 

‘ Crickey ! ’ cried the old man, delighted. 

‘An’ you’ll be hanged if you’re caught.’ 

‘ Oh, crickey ! ’ Gable was more delighted still, 
and danced up and down, clapping his hands. 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


155 


Suddenly there was a warning whistle from Fork 
Lightning, and that black scoundrel crept stealthily in 
amongst his mates. 

^ Someone’s cornin’,’ he said. 

‘ To horse ! ’ cried Ked Hand. ‘ "When I give the 
word, gallop into the road an’ cut off their retreat. 
Don’t fire till I give orders, an’, mind, spare the 
women an’ children.’ 

Sounds of horses’ hoofs were heard approaching. 
The gang, masked, and mounted on bridled and 
saddled goats, anxiously awaited the word of com- 
mand. 

‘Back, men, back for your lives!’ cried Dick. 
‘It’s the p’lice, fifteen thousan’ strong, an’ they’re 
hot on our track ; but Eed Hand’s gang will never be 
taken alive.’ 

The bushrangers cowered back into the shadow as 
a party of three young men riding tired horses ambled 
slowly by, singing dolorously and brandishing bottles. 
Eed Hand was discreet if valiant. However, another 
warning came not a minute later. This time it was 
a solitary man in a farmer’s cart; his old horse was 
shuffling wearily through the dust at a jog-trot, and 
the boys could just discern the tall gaunt figure of 
the driver. 

‘ Surround him, my lads ! ’ yelled Eed Hand. ‘ Bail 
up ! ’ he cried riding forward on Butts and presenting 
what passed very well for a pistol in the dusk. ‘ Your 
money or your life ! ’ 

The driver snatched a stick out of the cart and, utter- 


156 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


ing a great yell, began to belabour bis poor horse merci- 
lessly. 

‘ Fire ! ’ shrieked the implacable Ked Hand ; and 
a few seconds later six crackers exploded about the 
unhappy farmer, who instantly fell upon his knees and, 
still pounding at his horse, was whirled away amongst 
the trees by the startled brute. For some time the bush- 
rangers could hear him still hammering his old horse, 
and catch the sound of his voice encouraging the 
poor animal to more reckless speed, and the crashing 
of saplings as the dray pounded its way through the 
undergrowth. The boys v^ere delighted; this was 
noble sport; the lust of victory was upon them. 
Gable was waving his arms and ejaculating ‘ Oh, 
crickey ! ’ and the others capered about on their goats, 
and felt themselves to be very large and terrible per- 
sons indeed. 

^ Bushrangin’s easy ez snuff,’ said Peterson. 

‘Course it is,’ said Phil. ‘Wisher few p’lice’d 
come along and let’s have a go at ’em.’ 

‘‘That was splendidly done, men,’ said Red Hand 
with superior coolness. ‘ Back to your places. Some- 
one’s cornin’.’ 

The next comer was a man on a grey horse. 

‘ Bail up ! ’ cried Red Hand from the cover of the 
saplings. ‘ Stir a foot an’ you’re a dead man.’ 

The rider waited for no more, but threw himself 
forward on his horse’s neck, dug in his spurs, and gal- 
loped furiously away in the direction of Cow Flat, 
hearing the reports of the boys’ crackers only when he 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


157 


was far out of range. The next victim was a small 
boy on a pony, who, as soon as he heard the terrible 
command, fell plump on to the road and then jumped 
up and lied in terror after his bolting horse. The 
gang had now spread consternation and dismay along 
quite two miles of the highway, and were jubilant in 
consequence and primed for any adventure however 
desperate. 

Dick entertained his men with talk of the glory 
they had earned by their actions that night, and pre- 
dicted a reputation for them beside which the repu- 
tation of every other gang of bushrangers Australia 
had known would fade into insignificance. 

The boys listened soberly, very elated and perfect- 
ly happy. 

^But we mustn’t let the nex’ one go so easy,’ said 
the leader. 

^ Here is someone,’ whispered Fork Lightning. 

Sure enough, a pedestrian could be dimly discerned 
approaching from the direction of the toll-gate. 

‘ To yer horses ! commanded Bed Hand. 

‘ Why, it’s a woman,’ said Peterson. 

‘ Who cares? ’ 

‘ Thought bushrangers never did nothin’ to the 
women? ’ 

‘ Oh,’ said Dick, ‘ that’s on’y when they’re young 
an’ pretty. If this one’s young an’ pretty I’ll ’polo- 
gise, an’ it’ll be all right. There ain’t no reason not 
to bail ’em up when they’re big an’ strong an’ able to 
take care o’ themselves.’ 


158 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


This seemed quite reasonable to the gang, and they 
saw as the lady approached that her size did not give 
her any claim upon their gallantry. She was very 
tall and stout. In point of fact she was the woman 
who had driven through Waddy on the day after the 
goat raid, calling down infamy on the township. 

^ Bail up! ’ cried Bed Hand. 

Phil, Ted, and Peterson rode up in front, barring 
the -way. Eed Hand and Fork Liglitning approached 
from either side, and all presented pistols. The wo- 
man backed away a few paces, staring at the goat- 
mounted, masked apparitions that seemed to have 
started out of the ground under her very nose, but 
the bushrangers followed her up. 

‘ Be not afraid, madam,’ said Dick in his best liter- 
ary style; ‘ I am Bed Hand, an’ if you obey no in- 
jury’ll be done you.’ 

The woman threw up her hands in amazement. 

‘ Well I never,’ she muttered. Without the least 
warning she darted at Ted, seized him, pulled him 
from the back of his billy, and in spite of his wild 
struggles promptly bent him over her knee; then, 
with a hand like that of a navvy, backed by a great 
muscular arm, began to spank the terrible outlaw. 

‘ You look out ! You le’ me alone ! ’ gasped Ted, 
struggling and writhing with all his power; but the 
flailing went on, bat — bat — bat — with blows that 
might have disturbed an elephant. Ted’s feelings 
became too strong for words ; he started to howl, and 
the night re-echoed with the cries of the outraged 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


159 


bushranger. Tlie rest of the gang stood mute, star- 
ing at this shocking scene, amazed and deeply offend- 
ed. It was all so incongruous, so utterly opposed to 
rule and precedent ; they could scarcely believe their 
senses. Dick was the first to recover. 

‘ Fire! ’ commanded Red Hand. 

Cracker-wicks were ignited and four explosions fol- 
lowed, but when the smoke was gone the gang still 
beheld the terrible woman beating away at their un- 
happy comrade, too absorbed in a congenial occupa- 
tion to care a solitary button for the fire of the out- 
laws. This was too much for Jacker. The brothers 
were always ready to fight each other’s battles, let the 
odds be what they might, and the elder rushed to the 
rescue. The onslaught did not seem to make the 
least difference, however ; the woman simply dropped 
Ted and grasped his brother. Jacker Mack was a 
strong boy and a fierce one, but strength and tricks 
availed him nothing against those powerful arms ; in 
ten seconds he was in Ted’s place, and the massive 
hand was dealing with him, heavily and with startling 
rapidity. 

^ Charge 1 ’ shrieked Eed Hand . 

But the gang was demoralized. Peterson and Doon 
moved back from the danger, and only one member 
obeyed the order — Peterson’s formidable goat. Hector. 
Goodness knows what inspired the animal ; possibly a 
grateful instinct, probably the sight of means to do 
an ill deed. Anyhow, he charged. He rushed the 
woman from a commanding position, with force and 


160 


THE GOLD-STEALEKS. 


judgment, and a second later Jacker, woman, and goat 
were rolling and struggling in the dust. Ked Hand 
and the faithful Ted dragged Jacker from the hands 
of the enemy, and the gang fled to a safe distance, 
and watched the shadowy form of the woman as she 
gathered herself up and shook the dust out of her 
dress. Then for two minutes she stood and addressed 
them through the darkness in strident tones and lan- 
guage that would have shocked an old drover or a 
railway ganger. 

‘ Bushrangin’ ain’t up to much,’ whimpered Ted, 
rubbing himself with both hands. 

‘ It’s rot! ’ said Jacker fiercely. 

Peterson and Doon muttered words of approval, 
and Dick felt that four pairs of reproachful eyes 
were turned upon him. Gable was still hopping 
about ecstatically murmuring ‘ Crickey ! Oh, 
crickey ! ’ as he had been doing all through the en- 
counter. 

^ How’d I know? ’ said Dick in self-defence. ‘ You 
fellers oughter had better sense’ n to let her get hold 
o’ you.’ 

‘ You started it! ’ groaned Ted. 

‘ Pretty lot o’ bushrangers you are, anyway, ’ Dick 
sneered, ‘ howlin’ ’cause a woman gave you a bit of 
a doin’.’ 

‘ How’d you like it? ’ asked Jacker sullenly. 

Dick disdained to reply ; indeed his attention was 
occupied with more important things. Out of the 
night came the sound of galloping hoofs and calling 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


161 


voices. The boys listened anxiously for a minute or 
so, and then realised their danger. 

‘ They’re after us ! ’ exclaimed Dick. ^ Scatter an’ 
run for the scrub. Meet at the mine ! ’ 

The pursuers dashed up on their horses just as the 
boys swarmed over the fence into Wilson’s paddock. 
It was the party of young men who first passed the 
bushrangers, and the man on the grey horse. They 
were armed with bottles, three parts drunk, and bent 
on making an heroic capture. Some of them sprang 
from their horses and pursued the fiying bushrangers 
through the trees. 

Dick and Peterson reached the Gaol Quarry safely, 
and sat in doleful silence waiting for their mates, and 
wondering if any had been taken. Ted and Jacker 
joined them a few minutes later, and Phil Doon came 
limping up in the course of a quarter of an hour. 
He had bad news. 

^ They’ve got Gable ! ’ he cried from a distance. 

‘ Ho. Go on ! ’ 

‘ S’help me. I fell gettin’ over the fence an’ 
sneaked into a hollow tree, an’ saw ’em snavel him. 

Here’s one of ’em ” said one, an’ they put him on 
a horse an’ tied his legs under its belly, an’ they’ve 
gone into Yarraman with him.’ 

‘ Gee-rusalem! An’ what’d he say?’ gasped Dick. 

‘ Nothin’ ’sept ‘‘ Oh, crickey ! ” ’ 

‘Well, he won’t split on us. He won’t know a 
word about it in the mornin’. We’re all right if 
none of us blabs. You fellers goin’ to stay? ’ 


162 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


‘I ain’t. I’m sick o’ bein’ a bushranger,’ said 
Jacker, with a reflective and remorseful rub at his 
hurt place. 

‘ So’m I,’ said Ted. 

Phil Doon, it appeared, had pressing reasons for 
returning home, but Peterson remembered that he had 
still an account to settle with his father, and resolved 
to share Dick’s fortune. 

^ Eight you are,’ said Dick. ^ You fellers bring 
some crib to-morrer, an’ if you see Parrot Cann tell 
him to fetch some too — an’, mind, no blabbin’.’ 

Eeverses of this kind did not depress him ; he had 
experienced many failures, but the wreck of one en- 
terprise only implied, the necessity of starting another. 

‘ Say,’ he said mysteriously, ^ there’s a big reason 
why we should keep things darker’n ever. Listen. 
We’ve struck the reef! ’ 

The others stared incredulously. 

‘ You’re havin’ us,’ said Jacker. 

‘Am I? Tell ’em, Billy.’ 

‘No, he ain’t,’ said Peterson. ‘It’s true, strike 
me breath. We got a specimen this mornin’ wif 
three colours in it.’ 

‘ So if anyone’s told where we’re hidin’ they’ll see 
the stone an’ go an’ jump the mine,’ said Dick art- 
fully. 


CHAPTEK XIV. 


Neither of the McKniglits nor Parrot came to the 
boys on the Sunday morning, and Dick and Billy, 
whose larder had run short, were compelled to make 
a raid on Wilson’s garden — which yielded little in 
the way of fruit, but carrots and turnips were not de- 
spised. At about eleven o’clock, from an outlook 
amongst some scrub on the Eed Hand tip, Dick and 
his mate could see that something unusual was going 
on in Waddy. They saw a crowd gathering near the 
Drovers’ Arms, and could catch the glitter of the ac- 
coutrements of a couple of troopers. A little later a 
mounted policeman actually came cantering into the 
paddock and forced them to creep stealthily to their 
safe retreat at the bottom of the mine. Here they 
sat and talked, prey to the most torturing curiosity. 
Dick’s theories to explain the apparent sensation were 
fine and large, investing himself and his companion 
with profound dignity as the heroes of a thrilling ad- 
venture; but Billy’s for a wonder were somewhat 
gloomy, reckoning with parental castigations and ten 
years in gaol. This unusual frame of mind was in- 
duced, no doubt, by a limited and strictly vegetarian 
diet. Dick took into account the possibility that 

163 


164 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


Jacker, Ted, or Phil Doon might divulge the Com- 
pany’s great secret, although his faith in the loyalty 
of his mates was strong. If the worst came to the 
worst he meditated a retreat through the hole into the 
Red Hand drive, and flight from thence down the 
ladder-shaft and into the spacious workings of the 
Silver Stream. 

To help pass the time the two worked a little in the 
drive, breaking down about a hundredweight of the 
quartz ridge that had cut in across the narrow face. 
The stone showed gold freely. At another time this 
would have occasioned the wildest jubilation, but now 
everything was secondary to the wonder inspired by 
what they had seen in Waddy, combined with their 
dread of the results of last night’s work. It was well 
on in the afternoon when they were joyfully startled 
by the sound of a whistle in the shaft. 

‘ Hello, below there ! ’ cried a voice, and a few 
seconds later Parrot Cann, too excited to go through 
the usual formalities, rattled down and landed in a 
heap at Dick’s feet. 

^ What’s up? ’ asked Dick eagerly, as Parrot crept 
into the drive. 

‘Oh, I say,’ gasped Parrot, ‘ youse fellers are in 
fer it 1 ’ 

‘ How? Who split? What’ re the troopers doin’ ? ’ 

‘ They’re after youse.’ 

‘ After us! ’ Peterson’s face paled at this corrobo- 
ration of his worst suspicions. 

‘My oath! Gable’s in gaol at Tarraman; Phil 


THE GOLD-STEALEKS. 


165 


an’ Jacker an’ Ted’s been took, an’ now they’re after 
you. ’ 

‘ Fer what? ’ 

^ Kob’ry under arras, the feller said, an’ shooting 
with intent’ r somethin’.’ 

Dick whistled incredulously. Here was fame, here 
was glory. His favourite authors were justified, and 
yet there was the dark side ; thought of his mother 
came with a sharp twinge. 

^ Who went an’ split — Ted? ’ 

‘ Hone o’ the Company,’ said Parrot. ‘ The troop- 
ers came to arrest Gable’s mates, thinkin’ they was 
men, an’ Toll-bar Sam told who you was. He saw 
you all last night. ’ 

‘ Did they take Ted, an’ Jacker, an’ Phil right 
away? ’ 

‘ TJm. Off to Yarraman. You don’t know what 
a row’s on. It’s awful. Them fellers what captured 
Gable told a yarn about a gang o’ bushrangers’ n a 
terrible fight, an’ swore Gable was the blood thirstiest 
of ’em all. The Yarraman Mercury printed a special 
paper this mornin’, with all about the outbreak of a 
new gang o’ bushrangers in great big type, an’ every- 
one’s near mad about it, ’sept those what’s laughin’.’ 

The boys gazed at each other for a few moments in 
silence. It took some time to grasp the astounding 
facts. They were real bushrangers, their escapades 
had been printed in the papers, they were actually be- 
ing pursued by hona fide troopers on flesh-and-blood 
horses — what more could ambitious youth demand? 


166 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


Dick’s unconquerable romanticism upheld him; he 
had achieved distinction, and the prospect of deluding 
and outwitting the police after the manner of his most 
brilliant heroes filled him with delight; but Billy 
Peterson was awed and out of spirits. 

‘ It’s all right, Billy,’ said Dick, ^ they’ll never find 
us here. We can defy ’em all fer weeks.’ 

^ Yes,’ said Billy bitterly, ‘ but I’m hungry! ’ 

^ You didn’t bring no crib. Parrot.’ Dick had 
made it a rule that the necessities of a shareholder 
temporarily in difliculties and hiding in the mine 
were to be attended to by the free members of the 
Company or others who, like Parrot Cann, were ad- 
mitted to the Company’s councils. 

‘Wasn’t game,’ answered Parrot; ‘they’d ’a’ 
watched me. Had to sneak away as it was.’ 

Dick puckered his face wisely. It was a very dirty 
face just now ; his red hair, long neglected, hung in 
wisps over his forehead and about his ears, giving him 
an elfish look in the candlelight. 

‘ Never mind,’ he said, ‘bring us some to-night, 
first chance you get; but be cunnin’. We’ll shake 
some fruit soon ez it’s dark, to keep us goin’.’ 

‘ What’s the good o’ fruit? ’ groaned Peterson. 
‘ Fruit ain’t grub.’ 

Dick looked anxiously at his mate. There was an 
immediate danger that the outlaws might be starved 
out. 

‘ Parrot’s goin’ to fetch some,’ he said brightly. 

Parrot promised to do his best for them, but, al- 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


167 


though they waited till nearly nine o’clock in hungry 
anticipation, he did not return that night. The last 
carrot was eaten, and a cautious excursion to Summers’ 
orchard produced nothing, Maori’s warning bark driv- 
ing the boys back to the Gaol Quarry, empty and dis- 
consolate. Billy could hold out no longer, but he did 
not meditate an open desertion. 

‘ I’ll jes’ sneak round our house till I get a chance 
to slip in an’ shake a junk o’ bread or somethin’ ; then 
I’ll come right back an’ we’ll go halves,’ he said. 

‘ Sure you’ll come back, are you? ’ 

‘ ’S that wet? ’S that dry? ’ 

Dick accepted the oath. He would have gone home 
himself with burglarious intentions, but feared that the 
official anxiety to catch the notorious head of the new 
gang must have concentrated police vigilance about his 
mother’s house, and the risk was too great. 

‘ Hurry back ez quick’s you can,’ he commanded. 
‘ ’H you’ll have to be slyer ’n a black snake ’r they’ll 
nab you.’ 

Dick spent the first hour alone under the saplings 
in the quarry, and then, as Billy had not returned and 
the time hung heavily on his hands, he crept out and 
up the hill towards the Bed Hand. He prowled about 
amongst the old tips for a time, then seated himself 
at the foot of a dead butt and gave himself up to 
thought. He began to fear that Peterson would prove 
unfaithful, or, worse still, that he had fallen into the 
hands of the enemy ; and the idea made him very un- 
easy. He hesitated about returning to the drive. 


168 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


Although he was singularly free from the superstitious 
fears that would make such a place a haunt of horrors 
to the average youngster, the notion of sleeping alone 
below there did not please him, and he had still some 
hope of hearing Billy’s signal. 

He was beginning to feel the pangs of nunger, too, 
and now that it was too late recollected that he might 
have found a ministering angel in Miss Chris. It 
would have been an easy matter to have met her when 
coming through the paddock from chapel at nine 
o’clock, and an easier matter to have appealed to her 
tender sympathies with a story of hunger and misfor- 
tune. The boy’s thoughts lingered with Miss Chris; 
he found a melancholy satisfaction in the belief that 
she would pity him, and probably shed a few tears 
over the sorrows of a noble and generous youth driven 
to crime by persecution, and outlawed through the 
machinations of an unscrupulous constabulary. So 
real could he make these sentimental fancies that her 
keen sorrow for him filled him with acute emotions of 
self-pity, and a large tear actually rolled down his 
freckled nose. 

Suddenly romance was swept out of his mind, and 
wonder and fear possessed him. Throwing himself 
forward, he crept noiselessly to a rotten trunk over- 
grown with suckers that lay between him and the 
Bed Hand shaft, and, raising himself on his hands, 
peered through the bushes. A belt of pale golden 
light, thrown by the rising moon between the converg- 
ing tips, lay right across the mouth of the shaft ; and 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


169 


up through the rusty bark of the door were thrust a 
thin long hand and a bony arm. As Dick gazed, 
trembling and amazed, a second hand appeared. He 
heard the rattle of a chain, the click of a lock; then 
the door was thrust upwards and let noiselessly back 
upon the timber. How a man’s head came into view, 
and up out of the shaft crawled a figure that Dick 
recognised in spite of the precautions taken. Reach- 
ing into the darkness of the shaft, the man, who re- 
mained on his knees in a crouching position, drew up 
a skin bag containing something of considerable weight 
apparently ; then came another head, and a second 
man slid, snake-like, from the shaft. At the sight of 
the second, Dick, whose heart seemed to have swollen 
within him to an enormous size, gasped aloud; he 
heard a warning ^ Hash ! ’ from the shaft, and lay 
perfectly still. The door was closed, the lock clicked 
again, and when he ventured to look the two men 
were stealing away towards the quarry. The boy 
crept after them to the extent of the trunk behind 
which he was hidden, and when he looked again they 
had disappeared. Creeping silently in the shadows 
and amongst the scrub ferns, Dick followed until, 
resting a moment, he heard distinctly the words : 

‘ Why did you hit him again ? Good God ! did you 
want to kill him? ’ The voice was Ephraim Shine’s, 

^ No. That won’t kill him. Don’t be so blasted 
chicken-hearted. I didn’t want to be seen, you ass ! ’ 
Dick knew the voice for that of Joe Rogers, whose 
face he had seen in the moonlight. 


170 


THE GOLD-STEALEKS. 


‘ The lick I gave him was enough ; it must ’a’ 
stunned him.’ Shine spoke in a low voice. 

^ D’yer think he recognised you?’ asked Eogers 
hoarsely. 

^ No, I was in the shadder. I d’know, though — I 
d’know.’ 

‘ Listen here, an’ take a grip on that screamin’ 
woman’s tongue o’ yours. It don’t matter whether 
he saw you ’r didn’t see you, ’cause he won’t live t’ 
tell it. ’ 

‘ Oh, Heaven ! Oh, Lord ! Oh, Lord ! I didn’t 
mean that — I swear to Heaven, I on’y meant to stun 
him ! ’ 

^ I know yer didn’t. Pull yerself together, you 
quiverin’ idiot. D’ye think / meant to do murder? ’ 

^No, no, no; o’ course not. P’raps he ain’t hurt 
ez bad ez you think.’ 

‘ ’Tain’t the hurt, it’s this. I on’y thought of it 
cornin’ up the ladders. Did yer notice where he fell? 
He went back down the incline, failin’ with his head 
a few feet up from the pumps. Know what that 
means? Harry Hardy’ll be foimd drowned ! ’ 

Dick heard Shine gasping for breath, and Eogers 
went on coolly : 

^ He was in the Sunday afternoon shift at the 
pumps. The water in the incline’ll rise up over him 
before the first workin’ shift goes down.’ 

‘ Let’s go back, an’ drag him out. Let’s go 
back! ’ 

^ Sit still, damn you ! Go back an’ be trapped, or 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


171 


be recognised if his senses return? His candle was 
burnin’ . ’ 

‘ But it’s murder — it’s murder ! ’ 

‘ Is it? Listen here. I noticed a lump o’ rock 
had fallen out o’ the roof. It’ll be thought he was 
stunned by it, an’ drowned in the water as it rose. ’ 

‘Man, it’s terrible. Two brothers! My sin is 
findin’ me out, Joe Rogers! ’ 

‘Shut up cant, d’you hear! It served him 
thunderin’ well right. What’d he want to come 
pokin’ into the mine at all fer? What the devil did 
the other one interfere in what didn’t concern him 
fer? But we’ve got it in spite of ’em.’ Rogers had 
plunged his hands into the skin bag. 

‘All, Rogers, all!’ For the moment Shine’s 
cupidity triumphed over his fears. ‘ Every blessed 
ounce. All the stuff I’ve been puddlin’ away in the 
floor o’ that drive fer weeks. An’ the nugget, ain’t 
it a beauty — ain’t it a beauty? An’ to think I’ve 
been shepherdin’ that daisy fer ten shifts ! ’ 

Dick crept closer and, peering through a slit in the 
great hollow trunk of the tree, saw that Rogers was 
handling the contents of the bag. On his knee lay 
a gleaming mass that the boy knew to be a beautiful 
nugget. 

‘ What devil’s luck brought that young fool to the 
“T” drive? ’ 

‘He must ’a’ heard you splashin’. You wasn’t 
careful. ’ 

‘ Ez careful ez I could be. I had to scoop the 


172 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


stuff outer holes in the wet floor o’ the drive where 
I’d puddled it away in the mud.’ 

^ Ain’t there a chance fer him — not a single hope? ’ 

‘ Oh, yes, but it’s a bad un fer us if he recognised 
you. There’s the chance o’ him recoverin’, an’ 
draggin’ himself out o’ the water. Hullo ! what in 
hell’s name’s happenin’ now? Quick, cut for the 
scrub; someone’s cornin’. I’ll hide the bag here. 
Come back when they’ve passed.’ 

Dick heard Rogers throw the calfskin bag into the 
hollow of the tree and scrape the loose rubbish over 
it, and then both glided away in the shadow of the 
Red Hand tips. From beyond the tips came the beat 
of a horse’s hoofs, and the sound of human voices. 
Dick’s flrst thought was of his pursuers, the troopers; 
his second of his escape; his third sent the blood 
surging through his veins and his heart beating like a 
piston. A grand thought, a magniflcent thought! 
He could have cried out with exultation as it swept 
into his mind. Creeping around the tree he silently 
unearthed the gold-stealers’ bag and dragged it after 
him, retreating to the quarry. At the edge of the 
incline he let the bag slide, and it went to the bottom 
with the noise a cow might have made moving through 
the scrub. Dick followed, scrambling down the rocks. 
Having recovered the bag, he dragged it under the 
scrub to the opening in the wall, hastily concealing 
his tracks. There was some difficulty in getting the 
bag through the space in the rock but he managed 
well ; then he swung it free of the ladder, so that it 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


173 


dropped into the shaft and on to the broken reef 
below. He clambered through on to the ladder, drew 
the loose scrub ferns into their places, and fitted into 
the crevice the wedge-shaped stone, kept as a last con- 
cealment of the retreat. 

Standing on the ladder Dick waited, and presently 
heard sounds of men making their way into the Gaol 
Quarry. His suspicions were correct : the party was 
seeking him. Presently he heard a voice he recog- 
nised as that of Jim Peetree, saying: 

‘ This is the spot, boss ; I’ve seen him here scores o’ 
times. If he ain’t here I give it up.’ 

Dick heard the jingle of spurs, and an authoritative 
voice. 

‘ Search all about amongst the scrub and the rocks. 
Keep my horse ready in case the boy makes a bolt 
for it.’ 

There were three or four men, Peterson and 
McKnight amongst them. They searched industri- 
ously, coming pretty close to Dick’s hiding place more 
than once. 

‘We should have let the other lad go and have 
followed him,’ said the authoritative voice. ‘Fancy 
three troopers being kept a whole day and half the 
night dancing after a bit of a kid.’ 

Dick’s heart thrilled at this. 

‘Well, he’s not here, that’s certain sure,’ said 
Peterson. ‘ My boy said he left him in the paddock, 
an’ I s’pose he can’t be fur, but I tell you you won’t 
get him, he’s that cunnin’. He’s fuller o’ wicked- 


174 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


ness an’ wisdom, an’ good an’ bad, than any boy yon 
ever see, sergeant.’ 

‘ Ah, well, we’ll move on and try the other spot; 
but I would like to have the dear boy for five 
minutes now, while I feel in the humour to knock some 
of the bad out of him.’ 

They started off again, and when the beat of hoofs 
was lost in the distance Dick crept from his hiding- 
place and climbed up out of the quarry. He now stole 
to a position from which he could command a view of 
the hollow tree, whilst remaining under thick shelter 
and leaving himself an excellent opening for retreat. 
His blood was full of the excitement of this new ad- 
venture, a true adventure dealing with theft and mur- 
der. He was afraid, terribly afraid, but it seemed to 
him that all his emotions were held in abeyance : he 
was conscious of their existence, but they no longer 
ruled him. One thing was paramount, his determina- 
tion to know everything of the crime that had been 
perpetrated in the main drive of the Silver Stream. 
Fragments of thoughts seemed to flicker up likefiames 
within him and die out again instantly, and he re- 
peated constantly under his breath without knowing 
why : 

^ Her father ! Her father ! Her father ! ’ 

There was something to be done — much to be done, 
and one important thing, one thing that meant life 
or death; but these must come after. How he was 
wild to know all that the thieves might tell. 

Rogers was the first to come crawling back to the 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


175 


tree. He scattered the loose rubbish in the hollow 
trunk, and uttered a fierce oath. 

‘ It’s gone, gone, gone ! ’ he almost shouted as 
Shine joined him. 

^ You lie, you lie! You want to rob me! ’ the 
long searcher had fiown at his throat, and for a few 
seconds they struggled together, but Rogers threw 
the older man off fiercely and dragged him by the 
throat to the tree. 

‘Feel, search, look for yourself, you hound! ’ he 
cried. ‘ Could I eat it? ’ 

Shine, going on his hands and knees, clawed amongst 
the rubbish ; then, whining and muttering, went 
scratching about like a dog, seeking high and low, and 
Rogers followed him blaspheming with insensate fury. 

‘ It’s no good, I tell you, you snuffling, whimper- 
ing, white-livered cur ! ’ he said. ‘ Those men have 
got away with it, curse them ! ’ 

But Ephraim continued his search, creeping under 
the scrub, scratching in the grass ; and as he searched 
his whimper grew louder and louder, and he cried like 
an old woman at a wake. 

‘ An’ we killed a man, we killed a man ! ’ he wailed 
again and again. 

Rogers rushed at him viciously, and kicked him 
heavily in the ribs. 

‘ Get up, you dog ! ’ he cried hoarsely, with a string 
of oaths. He dragged Shine to his feet, and con- 
tinued ; ^ Listen to me. Go home an’ go to bed fer a 
while. Turn up at the mine all right at one, and in 


176 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


the mornin’. Keep your mouth shut, an’ wait till 

you hear from me again, or — or ’ He did not 

finish his threat. After a moment he continued, in a 
more composed tone : ‘ We’re in no danger if we’ve 
not been seen. That was the trooper after the cub 
Haddon. He’s got the gold all right. Bury the key. 
Get back to your house, an’ lie down fer a while. Be 
careful — p’raps we’re watched now.’ 

The two men moved off together. After they had 
passed the tips Dick quickly made his way into the 
quarry, and from thence to the drive of the Mount of 
Gold. 


CHAPTER XV. 


‘ Her father did it! Her father! Her father! ’ 
Dick continued to repeat these words as he procured 
candles and prepared himself for a journey into the 
deep mines. He was conscious of a double duty ; he 
must rescue Harry Hardy from the rising waters and 
save the father of Christina Shine from a terrible 
crime, and yet he went about his task as if moved by 
an external impulse. The work had been mapped out 
for him by someone or something apart, and he under- 
took it without a thought of its dangers or a hint of 
revolt. In fact, he was feverishly anxious to face the 
black Red Hand shaft and the great, lone workings 
beyond. He lit one candle, put several pieces in his 
pocket with the matches, and started on his journey. 
He was oblivious to his surroundings, oblivious to 
everything but the object of his quest — Harry Hardy, 
lying far below in the dripping main drive of the 
Silver Stream. His large dark eyes, staring unblink- 
ingly, seemed as if set on a vision of his friend prone 
on the muddy floor of the drive, with the treacherous 
waters stealing amongst his hair. The present mis- 
sion had nothing in common with those fanciful ad- 

177 


178 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


ventures that had served to make the boy the wonder 
and despair of his native township. Hichard Haddon 
was entirely forgotten for the time being, and this 
concentration of mind and energy served to carry the 
boy bravely over every obstacle. 

Dick made his way through the opening he and 
Ted had fashioned, dropped into the Red Hand drive 
beneath, and then turned with familiar feet and 
hastened towards the shaft. A few centres had been 
knocked out and thrown across the pit as a staging, 
so that access to the ladder was possible, but not with- 
out some risk. The boy paused at nothing, reached 
the iron rungs with a bound, and started down the 
perpendicular ladder. Down, down he went for 
many minutes, his candle feebly illuminating a blurred 
patch about his head. Above, through a bewildering 
space of darkness, the grated opening at the surface 
shone like a faint star in another sphere ; below w^as 
solid blackness ; about him the slime of the dripping 
timbers sparkled in the candle’s rays. Down, down, 
down ! The journey might have seemed interminable 
— a long pilgrimage into the earth’s black distances — 
had the boy had a mind for it, but he thought noth- 
ing of the task ; at length his feet struck the slabs 
over the well, and turning he flashed his light into the 
cavernous depth of a big drive. 

He plunged into the drive without a pause, and 
now the way was familiar again. Voyages of discov- 
ery made during crib time when he officiated as tool- 
boy in the Silver Stream had often brought him up 





HE LAY LIKE A CORPSE IN THE BLACK WATER 



THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


179 


tlie ]ump-iip into the Eed Hand drive. Down that 
jump-np he scrambled now, and stood in the first 
level of the Silver Stream where the rich gutter had 
dipped away. A short journey brought him to a bal- 
ance shaft. Down this to the lower level he travelled 
without any difficulty, and his journey was almost 
completed. He was in the bottom drive hastening 
towards the face where Rogers and Shine had left 
their victim. He could hear the far-off throbbing of 
the plunger in the big Stream pumps as it drew the 
water into the lifts, and above it all the strange mur- 
mur of a great mine, like the voice of a distant sea. 

Finding an empty truck the boy ran it before him 
on the rails. He was experienced miner enough to 
know that one can only travel quickly in this way in 
a wet drive full of ruts and pitfalls. Passing the ‘ S ’ 
drive, where the robbers had done their work, Dick 
found Harry Hardy jnst as Rogers had described him, 
on his back a few feet up the incline from the hand- 
pump that served to drain the low-lying part of the 
drive. His arms were thrown out, and his deadly 
pale face turned up, the chin pointing to the roof. 
Upon his forehead were stains of blood, and he lay 
like a corpse in the black water. The ffood had risen 
above his ears, aud the boy knew he had come only 
just in time. 

Dick stuck his candle in the soft clay, ran to 
Harry’s head, and lifted it from the water, and kneel- 
ing gazed intently into the cold white face. He 
thought his friend dead. 


180 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


^ Her father done it ! ’ he murmured. ‘ Her 
father ! Her father ! ’ 

He looked and listened for signs of life ; he called 
Harry’s name again and again, and felt for the beat- 
ing of his heart, having at the same time only a vague 
idea of the location of that organ. He tried to lift 
the young man away, but his strength was not equal 
to the task; and so, after collecting some pieces of 
reef to keep Harry’s face above the water, he at- 
tempted to drag him out of the reach of the flood. 
By putting forth all his power he contrived to draw 
his inanimate friend a few feet up the incline ; then, 
by lifting the shoulders an inch or two at a time, he 
succeeded in turning Hardy right round with his head 
farthest from the rising stream. The boy was now 
smothered from head to foot with yellow clay and his 
lustrous eyes shone from a face daubed with a puddled 
reef ; and he crouched in the slurry of the drive hold- 
ing Hardy’s head upon his knee, gazing intently into 
his face, muttering ever, in a half-puzzled way, the 
same words: 

‘ Her father ! Her father ! ’ 

The sound of a lump of reef falling from the roof 
somewhere far down the drive brought Dick sharply 
to his feet. His work was not yet accomplished. 
The scheme that had come to him without volition 
was nevertheless clearly set forth in his mind. He 
started dragging at Hardy again, and gradually drew 
him to the ordinary level of the drive. Once the 
water attained this height it would flow away towards 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


181 


the shaft, and do the young man no harm. Dick 
feared that Harry was dead ; but he did not reason, 
he only obeyed the instinct that possessed him and 
that also bade him avoid the incoming shift. If the 
men found him there he would have to tell all, and 
her father had done it — her father ! A swift 
panic seized Dick ; he snatched up his candle and ran 
back the way he had come. It was hours, he 
imagined, since he lay listening to Hogers and Shine 
above the quarry, and he wondered that the night- 
shift men were not below long ere this. He reached 
the balance shaft without liaving seen a man, and 
climbed swiftly to the upper level. His race was 
continued along these workings to the jump-up. 
Once in the Red Hand drive he was safe from dis- 
covery, but the feverish activity still possessed him. 
How he climbed that fearful flight of ladders up the 
black wet shaft he never knew. He remembered 
nothing of the agony of the toil the day after, when 
all seemed like a dream. 

He made his way into the Mount of Gold drive 
again. An impulse moved him to block the opening 
connecting the two drives with loose reef, and the 
same impulse led him to hide the skin bag containing 
the gold away under the dirt in the shaft of the 
Mount of Gold. The excitement that had driven 
him to the rescue of Harry Hardy sustained him till 
he had crawled out into the quarry ; then his strength 
all went out of him, and left him sick and wretched. 
He was famished, all his limbs ached with a dull in- 


182 


THE GOLD-STEALEKS. 


sistent pain after he had rested for a few minutes, and 
his weariness was so great that it was a terrible task 
to drag himself out of the quarry. But he succeeded 
in gaining the hillside at length, and hastened as quick- 
ly as he could through the trees in the direction of 
the Silver Stream, stumbling as he went, and sob- 
bing quietly in utter collapse of strength and spirit. 

When Dick reached the vicinity of the big mine 
he was surprised to find the brace deserted. He stole 
up and peered through the engine-house window at 
the driver’s clock, and saw with dull amazement that 
it was not yet half-past twelve. It had taken him 
little over half an hour to reach Harry Hardy and 
return — it seemed to him that he had been toiling for 
many hours. He crept in between the long stacks of 
firewood, made a bed on the soft bark, and waited. 
The first night shift of the week did not start work 
till one o’clock on Monday morning, and the mine was 
silent save for the slow pufling of the pumping engine 
and the deliberate rumbling of the bob. 

Lying on his stomach on the bark, the boy fixed 
his eyes upon the mine and suffered through the slow 
dragging minutes. He wept incessantly, and his teeth 
chattered, although the night was warm. A new 
fear had taken possession of him, a fear that Harry 
Hardy, if alive, would perhaps move and roll down 
the incline into the water again before the miners 
reached him. He waited in an agony of anxiety, and 
his eyes never moved from the cage at the surface 

The miners began to come in at length, with 


THE GOLD-STEALEKS. 


183 


heavy footsteps, swinging their crib billies, calling to 
each other in gruff voices. Lamps were lit upon the 
brace, and in the boiler-house and changing shed, and 
Dick saw the first cageful of men drop out of sight, 
as the engine groaned and the mine took up its busy 
duties again. 

One cage-load after another went down, and still 
Dick waited. At last there came a wild, unusual 
beat of the knocker. The boy knew the signal and 
started up on his knees. A man rushed past the end 
of the stacks to knock up Manager Holden. Others 
gathered excitedly about the mouth of the shaft, and 
the long fiat ropes spinning over the pulleys travelled 
at top speed. 

Soon Harry was brought to the surface, and placed 
upon a hurdle, and four men carried him away across 
the paddocks towards Waddy. Dick followed at a 
safe distance. Locky McRae, the boss of the shift, 
had run on ahead, probably to warn Mrs. Hardy. 

The boy saw Harry carried to his mother’s house, 
saw a man hurry by to call Mrs. Haddon, and waited 
for some time after she arrived, hidden in a gutter 
near at hand, listening for every word. After about 
a quarter of an hour Pete Holden drove his trap to 
the door, and Dick heard them talking of the hospital 
and Yarraman; then he knew that Harry was not 
dead, and dragged his worn, aching limbs to his own 
home, stupefied with suffering, hunger, and fatigue. 

When Mrs. Haddon entered her kitchen an hour 
later, carrying a fiaming match in her fingers, she was 


184 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


shocked to see a small, yellow- clad figure crouched in 
her own particular armchair near the chimney, and 
surmounting it a small white face in which burned 
two astonishing eyes. The little widow screamed and 
dropped the light and then screamed again, but a 
feeble voice reassured her. 

‘ Richard Haddon, is that you?’ she said severely. 
‘Oh! you wicked, bad, vicious boy! Where have 
you been? What’ve you been doing? ’ 

She was busying herself preparing the lamp, and 
her tongue ran on. 

‘ You’re breakin’ your poor mother’s heart — break- 
in’ my heart with your bushrangin’ an’ villainy, bring- 
in’ down the police, an’ trouble, an’ sorrow on me.’ 

The little woman’s nerves had been sorely tried of 
late with her own troubles and her neighbours’, and she 
broke down now and wept. 

‘ An’ you don’t care,’ she sobbed, ‘ you don’t care 
a bit how I suffer ! ’ 

Now the lamp was lit, and the widow turned her 
streaming eyes upon her incorrigible young son, and 
instantly her whole expression changed. She forgot 
to weep, she ceased to complain ; she gazed at Dick and 
her bosom was charged with terror, pity, and remorse. 
Truly he was a pitiful and ghostly object, sitting there 
in his mud, looking very small and pinched, with un- 
accustomed hollows in his pale cheeks, and here and 
there a nasty bloodstain showing brightly against the 
yellow clay. 

‘ Dick ! ’ screamed Mrs. Haddon. 


THE GOLD-STEALEKS. 


185 


The next moment he lay in his mother’s arms, cling- 
ing to her with tenacious fingers, crying hysterically, 
utterly unlike the Dick she thought she knew so well ; 
and she kissed him, and wept over him, and murmured 
to him as if he were really a baby again. She ascribed 
all to terror aroused by the knowledge that the police 
were after him. He had covered himself with slurry 
in strange hiding-places, and had had a fall probably 
or a blow. He was fed, his clothes were put in water, 
and finally he fell asleep in his own bed with his 
mother sitting by his side, her hand clasped in his. If 
Dick had been told a week earlier that he would ever 
go to sleep clinging to his mother’s liand, he would 
have scouted the idea with indignation and scorn ; and 
he remembered the act later with a blush as something 
shamefully effeminate or infantile, betraying a weak- 
ness in his character hitherto quite unsuspected. 


CHAPTER XVI. 


Dick’s limbs were all stiff and sore when he awak- 
ened, but he was wolfishly hungry, and that fact sat- 
isfied his mother that he had suffered no particular 
physical injury. He was still much paler than usual 
and suspiciously reserved, but he ate a good breakfast, 
and would have given his mother even more gratifying 
evidence of the perfect state of his health had not Miss 
Chris interrupted his meal by a sudden and disconcert- 
ing entrance. The young woman came into the room 
breathless, eager-eyed, and white to the lips. She 
drew herself up by the door, and made a poor pathetic 
effort to compose herself, to frame her plea in conven- 
tional words ; but she was too agitated to remember 
customary greetings. 

‘ Tell me ! Tell me ! ’ she said faintly. 

Dick sat stock still, wondering what new thing had 
happened, asking himself how much Chris knew of his 
secret ; but sympathetic little Mrs. Haddon started up 
in astonishment. 

^ Tell you what, my dear? ’ Then light came to 
her. ^ About the accident? ’ 

‘ Yes, oh, yes ! Is it true? They say he is 
dying! ’ 


186 


THE GOLD-STEALEKS. 


187 


‘ It isn’t true. He is not very badly hurt. His 
mother went to the hospital with him, an’ has come 
back. It’s concussion, the doctors say, an’ nothin’ 
serious.’ 

Miss Chris was plucking nervously at the bosom of 
her dress with her left hand, steadying herself against 
the table with her right ; now that she knew there was 
no occasion for her great alarm, woman-like she trem- 
bled on the verge of tears. Mrs. Haddon had re- 
sumed her seat, and for a moment the eyes of the 
two women met; then, much to the boy’s astonish- 
ment, Miss Chris covered her face with her hands and 
darted forward and knelt by his mother’s side, and 
there was a repetition of the incident in which he had 
figured a few hours earlier. Mrs. Haddon clasped 
Christina to her tender breast, and spoke little soothing 
speeches over the fair head, whilst Chris wept a 
little, and laughed a little, and clung tightly to her 
friend. 

‘ Yes, yes, I know, my dear,’ whispered Mrs. Had- 
don. ‘ I know, I know. But don’t you fret. It’ll 
all come out right.’ 

The women seemed thoroughly to understand each 
other, but to Dick this was quite inexplicable. He 
perceived, however, that Miss Chris was troubled in 
some way, and all his romantic chivalrous feelings were 
stirred, and his determination to spare her at all costs 
was strengthened again. Looking at the pair, and 
remembering the consolation he had derived from his 
mother’s strong embrace, the boy wondered what 


188 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


peculiar virtue lay in that kindly bosom that seemed 
to make it the natural refuge of the afflicted; and, 
wondering, he stole out and left the two together. 

When the women of Waddy had anything excep- 
tional to talk about they talked amazingly, and on 
this particular Monday there was so much of interest 
to be discussed that even the most voluble could only 
do justice to the subjects by neglecting domestic duties 
and devoting themselves to back-gate arguments. 
Harry Hardy’s accident was considered and debated 
from many points of view. Harry was twice reported 
dead during the morning — on the autliority of Mrs. 
Ben Steven and Mrs. Sloan — but this was contradicted 
by Mrs. Justin, who declared that the young man still 
breathed, but was suffering from many and various 
injuries which she alone was able to minutely describe. 
Then Mrs. Hardy arrived home from Yarraman, and 
it became known that the injuries were not likely to 
prove mortal; so the subject lost interest and was aban- 
doned in favour of Richard Haddon and his blood- 
thirsty gang. ‘ The boy Haddon ’ had been captured 
after a desperate encounter, and would be called upon 
to stand his trial, along with the poor lads he had so 
grievously misled, at Yarraman next day. It was con- 
ceded that he was about to meet his deserts at last ; but 
there was some slight difference of opinion as to the 
exact nature of Dick’s deserts. Some of the ladies 
thought ten years' imprisonment with various floggings 
and other heavy penalties in the way of solitary con- 
finement, leg-irons, and an unvarying diet of dry 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


189 


bread and water would be the severest punishment with 
which the youthful malefactor could reasonably be 
afflicted. Mrs. Ben Steven stood out resolutely for 
hanging, and, taking into account the thrilling report 
of his crimes supplied by the extraordinary issue of 
the Yarraman Mercury^ many of the ladies were com- 
pelled to admit that this extreme view was probably 
the correct one; besides, it possessed the advantage of 
coinciding admirably with long-established popular 
opinion about Dick’s end. They generously admit- 
ted, however, that they were sorry for his mother, 
poor lady. 

The Mercury could not very well have made more 
of what it called ^ The Outbreak of a New Gang ’ in 
its Sunday extraordinary. A whole page was filled 
with various accounts of the depredations of the gang, 
the terrifying appearance of its members, and certain 
moral refiections thrown in by the editor for the ben- 
efit of the Government and the police. There was 
‘Mr. Billson’s account,’ ‘Mr. Hogan’s account,’ and 
‘the account given by Master Mathieson.’ Each of 
these persons had been stuck up by the gang, and had 
escaped most miraculously after displaying great daring 
in the face of a bloodthirsty fire. The Mercury ex- 
liausted all its resources in the way of large black cap- 
itals and display type to do justice to the biggest sen- 
sation that had come in its way for years, and the 
appearance of the paper created the most profound 
amazement throughout the town and district. Gable 
was described as a cunning scoundrel whose affecta- 


190 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


tions of almost imbecile simplicity might easily have 
deceived intelligences less keen than those at the serv- 
ice of the Mercury^ and neither Messrs. Billson and 
Hogan nor Master Mathieson hinted that their assail- 
ants were anything less than grown men of the largest 
size and most ferocious type. 

Alas! in Monday morning’s Mercury the editor 
was reluctantly compelled to repudiate the most en- 
thralling portions of Sunday’s story, but he still took 
a very serious view of the affair, and vehemently con» 
tended that recent facts did not in any way tend to 
relieve the Government of its responsibilities in the 
matter of increased police-protection for Yarraman 
and district. It had transpired that the perpetrators 
of the series of outrages on the Cow Flat road were 
boys, undisciplined and dangerous youths, fully armed 
and led by the man Gable, whose mental infirmities 
were of such a nature as to render him unfit to be at 
large in a civilised community. The Mercury was 
informed that all the young ruffians who had taken 
part in the sticking-up incidents were in custody, and 
would appear in the police court on the following 
morning. 

Mrs. Haddon, who still believed Dick’s strange re- 
serve and lack of spirits to be due to his fear of the 
law and the dread prospect of having to appear in 
court, endeavoured indirectly (and very cleverly, as 
she imagined) to ease his mind. She did not wish 
him to think he had done no wrong, or that she did 
not regard his conduct as most reprehensible ; but his 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


191 


mute misery appealed to her motherly heart, and she 
heaped derision on those ^ fool men ’ who had been 
deluded by the silly pretence of a pack of boys, and 
who would be the laughing-stock of the whole coun- 
tryside when the truth was made known in court and 
the magistrates abused them for cowards and simple- 
tons. This was comforting to Dick ; but in truth he 
thought little of the pending court case, and it gave 
him no concern even when he found himself in the 
troopers’ hands. His secret weighed heavily upon 
him, and the sight of Mrs. Hardy, erect and brave 
and composed as ever, but with traces of suffering in 
her face that the boy could not fail to detect, brought 
home to him an aspect of the case that he had not 
considered up to now. Her son Frank was a prisoner 
suffering for a crime committed by Ephraim Shine : 
in protecting Shine for Christina’s sake he must sacri- 
fice Mrs. Hardy, Frank, and tiarry. 

The problem tried Dick sorely, but he had plenty 
of time to think it over and he determined to wait 
for Harry’s story. He must be true to Chris in any 
case, and he knew her love and admiration for her 
father were deep and sincere. He could not under- 
stand it: he admitted to himself that affection for 
such a man as the searcher was quite absurd and un- 
called for ; but he knew full well that the blow would 
fall upon the girl with crushing force, and his heart 
fought for her, and every romantic impulse he cherished 
bade him be leal and bold in the cause of the queen of 
her sex. In the end he resolved that if Flarry had 


192 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


not recognised his assailants he would warn Shine in 
some way, and when the searcher had made good his 
escape he would tell the whole truth. This, accord- 
ing to his boyish logic, was fair treatment to all 
parties, so the resolution brought him some peace of 
mind. 

The appearance of the Waddy bushrangers in the 
police court excited extraordinary interest at Yarra- 
man, and Tuesday morning witnessed something very 
like an exodus from Waddy. Every man and woman 
who could possibly get away made the journey to 
Yarraman, all as partisans of the prisoners. In Waddy 
Dick and his fellow imps could not be too severely 
condemned; but Waddy refused to recognise the 
right of outsiders to abuse them, and however vicious 
they may have been, it was felt to be the duty of the 
township to stand by its own as against the ‘ townies ’ 
and the witnesses from Cow Flat. 

The court was packed, and most of the people of 
Waddy had to be content to stand with the crowd 
that filled the street. An attempt had been made at 
the last moment to alter the charge against the boys to 
insulting behaviour, or something equally trivial, and 
all in court looked for much amusement. In fact, the 
tremendous bushranging sensation had degenerated into 
something very like a farce. 

The witnesses for the prosecution were the three 
young men from Mclvor’s run, who made the gallant 
attack upon the gang and captured Gable ; Billson, the 
farmer who had been bailed up in his cart ; Hogan, the 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


193 


horseman; the boy Mathieson, the tollman, and the 
woman, Cox by name. 

The young men were now sober and subdued, and 
the evidence they gave differed materially from the 
story told to the police on Saturday night when they 
cantered into Yarraman with their prisoner, drunk 
and vainglorious. They admitted now that the gang 
did not make a very strenuous resistance to their gal- 
lant charge, but insisted that the boys were armed 
with revolvers, and that Gable struggled like a demon ; 
and the old man, standing amongst his fellow prisoners, 
evidently immensely delighted with the part he was 
playing, smiled brightly upon the court and ejaculated 
‘ Oh, I say ! Oh, crickey ! ’ d propos of nothing in 
particular. 

Billson testified to having been bailed up on the 
Cow Flat road by a gang of bushrangers, who de- 
manded his money or his life and fired upon him. 
He described his hairbreadth escape with primitive 
eloquence, and was certain the gang meant to murder 
him. He was too agitated at the time to notice 
whether the bushrangers were men or boys. It was 
he who overtook the three young men, but they could 
not be induced to turn back till the boy Mathieson 
came up with them and declared the highwaymen to 
be a mob of boys. 

Hogan was equally positive about the firearms, and 
thought he heard the bullets whistling past his ears, 
but could not swear to it. At this stage the defend- 
ants’ lawyer, who had been harrowing the witnesses 


194 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


with many questions and heaping ridicule upon their 
devoted heads, called for the prisoners’ arms to be pro- 
duced, and the sight of the toy pistols with their mut- 
ton-boned barrels provoked yells of laughter in the 
court, which were presently echoed in the streets. 

But it was not till brawny Mrs. Cox took her stand 
in the witness-box that the absurdity of the Mercury'^ s 
story and the charge was exposed fully to a delighted 
audience. Mrs. Cox marched into the box in an 
aggressive way, saluted the book with an emphatic 
and explosive kiss, and then stood erect, square- 
shouldered and defiant, giving the court and all con- 
cerned to understand by her attitude that it must not 
be imagined any advantage could be taken of her. 
She told her story in a bluff dogmatic way. She was 
bailed up by the miscreants and scared out of her 
seven senses. They demanded her money or her life, 
and she believed that it was their intention to leave 
her ‘ welterin’ in her gore ’ ; and having said as much 
she squared round upon the lawyer, arms akimbo and 
head thrown back, inviting him to come on to his 
inevitable destruction. 

‘ Come, come, madam, ’ said the barrister, ^ you 
must not tell us you imagined for a moment you 
were ever in any serious danger from these terrible 
fellows. ’ 

^Mustn’t! mustn’t!’ cried Mrs. Cox. ‘An’, 
indeed, why not, sir? Who’ re you to tell me I 
musn’t? ’ 

Mrs. Cox stopped deliberately and carefully rolled 


THE GOLD-STEALEKS. 


195 


up both sleeves of her dress. Then, unhampered and 
in customary trim, she smote the cedar in front of her 
and cried : 

'Mustn’t, indeed! ’ 

‘No offence, ma’am,’ said the small lawyer in a 
conciliatory tone; ‘no offence in the world. Please 
explain what you did when attacked by the prisoners. ’ 

‘ What’d I do? First I said a prayer for me soul.’ 

‘ And then? ’ 

‘ And then I grabbed one o’ the young imps, an’ 
I ’ 

Here Mrs. Cox’s actions implied that she had a 
struggling bushranger in her grip. She drew him 
over her knee, and then, for the education and edifi- 
cation of the court, went through the task of enthusi- 
astically spanking a purely imaginary small boy. 

The pantomime was most convincing, and provoked 
roars of laughter that completely drowned the shrill 
pipe of the policeman fiercely demanding order ; when 
the noise had subsided Gable, fiushed with excitement 
and with dancing eyes and jigging limbs, cried out 
‘ Oh, crickey ! ’ with such gusto that the laughter 
broke loose again in defiance of all restraint, and was 
maintained until the chairman of the bench, himself 
almost apoplectic from his efforts to swallow his mirth, 
arose and talked of clearing the court ; then the crowd, 
fearful of missing the fun to come, quietened in a few 
seconds and the case was resumed. 

‘ You thrashed the young rip, Mrs. Cox,’ said the 
lawyer. ‘ You did well. A pity you did not serve 


196 


THE GOLD~STEALERS. 


them all alike and save us the folly of this most ridic- 
ulous case.’ 

^ I did grab another,’ said the witness, ‘ an’ I ’ 

Mrs. Cox repeated her eloquent pantomime. 

^ Oh, crickey! ’ cried Gable. ‘ Oh, I say, here’s 
a lark! ’ 

‘ Silence in court,’ squealed the asthmatical police- 
man. 

‘Excellent,’ said the lawyer. ‘ And so, madam, 
you drove off this desperate and bloodthirsty gang by 
simply slapping them all round? ’ 

‘ Yes, after I’d been assaulted with a goat,’ cried 
the witness, flushing with a recollection of her wrongs 
and shaking a formidable fist at the prisoners. ‘ After 
I’d been assaulted with a goat sooled on by one o’ the 
bla’ guards.’ 

The lawyer spoke a few soothing words : 

‘ You deserve the thanks of the community, Mrs. 
Cox, for the businesslike way in which you suppressed 
this diabolical gang. Your method is in pleasing con- 
trast with the ridiculous effeminacy of the previous 
witnesses. I have no doubt you would treat an adult 
bushranger in exactly the same way.’ 

‘ Or a lawyer either,’ said Mrs. Cox, detecting 
sarcasm. 

The case was practically decided when Mrs. Cox 
stepped down. The bench desired to have some evi- 
dence as to Gable’s character, and leading residents of 
Waddy described his infirmity, and spoke of him as 
an entirely harmless and innocent old man. The case 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


197 


was dismissed ; but the chairman, in acquitting the 
prisoners, took occasion to remind their parents that 
if the excellent example set bj Mrs. Cox were fol- 
lowed by them all, it would probably tend to the 
moral advantage of the boys and the benefit of society 
at large. 

The return to Waddy was something in the nature 
of a triumphal march in which the late prisoners fig- 
ured as heroes, but they lost importance immediately 
after reaching the township. A new topic of great 
interest had sprung up during the absence of the 
crowd ; news had arrived of Harry Hardy’s recovery, 
and it was known that his injuries were not the result 
of a fall of reef, but were infiicted by gold- stealers 
who had got into the mine in some mysterious way 
and had escaped again just as mysteriously. Already 
Waddy had decided upon the identity of the culprits 
who, it was confidently asserted, would be found 
amongst the small community of Chinamen whose 
huts were situated on the bank of the creek at a dis- 
tance of about two miles from the township, and who 
made a precarious living by fossicking and growing 
vegetables. Waddy always settled matters of this kind 
out of hand, and the presence of those Chinamen 
saved it much mental trouble in accounting for thefts 
small or great. 

Late that night Joe Rogers and the searcher sat to- 
gether in a hidden place in the corner paddock dis- 
cussing the turn events had taken. The last three 
days had told upon Shine, who was pallid, hollow- 


198 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


cheeked, and nervous; he fumbled always with his 
bent bony fingers bunched behind him, and when in 
the presence of others twisted and turned his curious 
feet continuously with a dull anxiety that irritated the 
men beyond bearing. Now, crouched amongst the 
scrub by the side of his mate, he whined about their 
danger. 

‘ We should ’a’ cleared. We oughter clear now. 
We’ll be nabbed if we stay.’ 

‘We’ll be nabbed if we bolt,’ replied Rogers. 

‘ The man as cleared now would be spotted as the 
guilty party, an’ half the p’lice in the country ’d be 
up an’ after him. No, here we are, an’ here we stick 
fer better or worse. ’ 

‘But if they’ve got the gold, why don’t they do 
somethin’? There’s no word of it. Rogers, if 
you’re foolin’ me over this ’ 

‘ Will you stop twiddlin’ those cursed feet of yours 
an’ listen to me? They haven’t got the gold, but I 
think I’ve guessed who has. That young whelp 
Haddon. ’ 

‘ Dickie Haddon? How, how? Where’s it now? ’ 

‘ How in thunder should I know? But I know the 
troopers didn’t get it. They would have made some 
noise about it afore this. See here, they were huntin’ 
that kid when they went into the quarry. He must 
’a’ hid somewhere about when he heard them cornin’ ; 
p’raps in that very tree. Then he dragged the gold 
away before we got back, an’ hid it. That’s my idea.’ 

‘ An’ d’ye think he saw us? ’ 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


199 


^ I don’t. He’d ’a’ split at once.’ 

‘Well, well, an’ what’ll yon do? ’ 

‘ Collar yonng Haddon, an’ frighten the truth out 
o’ him or break every bone in his cursed skin.’ 

‘ But he’d know then, you fool.’ 

‘Will he? I’ll take all sorts o’ care he doesn’t 
know me, you can take your colonial oath on that.’ 

‘ An’ if you get the gold back, no dirty tricks. 
It’s halves, you know — fair halves!’ 

‘ Yes, an’ haven’t you always got your share all 
fair an’ square? An’ what’ve you ever done fer it 
but whimper an’ cant an’ snuffle, like the cur you 
are?’ 

‘ I was goin’ to give it up after this,’ whined Shine, 
disregarding Joe’s outburst, ‘ an’ get married again, 
an’ live God-fearin’ an’ respectable.’ 

E-ogers glared at him in the darkness, and laughed 
in an ugly way. 

‘ Marry ! ’ he sneered. ‘ Man, the little widow 
wouldn’t have you. She’s waitin’ fer Frank Hardy; 
an’, as fer yer God-fearin’ life, you’re such an all- 
fired hippercrit. Shine, that I believe you fool your- 
self that you’re a holy man in spite o’ everythin,’ ’pon 
me soul I do ! ’ 

‘ Ah, Joseph Eogers, the devil may triumph fer a 
while, but I’m naturally a child o’ grace, an’ if you’d 
on’y turn ’ 

Eogers uttered an oath, and drawing back struck 
the searcher in the face with his open hand. 

‘Enough o’ that!’ he cried. ‘Hone o’ your 


200 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


sick’nin’ Sunday-school humbug fer me, Mr. Superv 
intendent. We’ve talked o’ that before.’ 

Shine arose, and moved back a few paces. 

‘ I’d better be goin’,’ he said. ^ ’Taint fer us to 
quarrel, Joseph. Leave the usual sign when we’re 
to meet again.’ 

Bent over his unconscionable feet, he stole away 
amongst the trees, and a few minutes later Rogers 
moved off slowly in another direction, towards the 
lights of the Drovers’ Arms. His thoughts as he 
strolled were not very favourable to his fellow 
criminal. 

‘ Let me once get my hands on that gold, ’ he 
muttered, ‘an’ I’ll bolt for ’Frisco. 


CHAPTER XYII. 


Dick remained very subdued throughout the next 
day ; his head was full of the oppressive secret, and 
he had no heart for new enterprises. At school his 
mates found him taciturn and uncompanionable, and 
Joel Ham was astonished at his obedience and indus- 
try. Harry Hardy returned home on the Wednes- 
day evening, and visited Mrs. Haddon’s kitchen that 
night. His head was swathed in bandages, and he 
was pale and hollow-eyed. Dick felt strange towards 
his friend and shrank from conversation with him, 
but listened eagerly when Harry described his ex- 
periences in the mine on the night of the attack. 

‘I’d stopped the pump for a spell,’ he said, ‘an’ 
presently thought I heard sounds like someone work- 
ing in the T ” drive. I crept quietly to the month 
of the drive, an’ could see a man with a candle 
crouched down at work on the floor. I was making 
towards him when another darted out of the darkness 
beside me, an’ brought me a fearful lick on the head. 
I staggered back into the main drive an’ had a sort o’ 
confused idea of running feet an’ loud voices, an’ 
then came another welt an’ over I went. They must 

201 


202 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


have dragged me up above the water level, an’ I 
ought to thank them for that, I s’ pose.’ 

‘An’ you couldn’t recognise either of them?’ 
asked Mrs. Haddon. 

‘No, I haven’t the slightest notion who it was hit 
me, an’ the figure of the other was just visible an’ no 
more. I could swear to nothing except this.’ He 
touched his head and smiled. 

‘ The cowardly wretches ! ’ cried Mrs. Haddon, her 
bosom swelling with indignation. 

‘They’re all that,’ said Harry, ‘but this is some- 
thing to be grateful for. Can’t you see what it 
means? It means that everyone is ready to believe 
Frank’s story now, an’ a broken head’s worth having 
at that price, ain’t it? ’ 

‘You’re a good fellow, Harry,’ said the little 
widow softly. ‘ Do you think they might let Frank 
go now? ’ 

‘ No, worse luck, not without further evidence ; 
but the company’ll probably go in for a big hunt, an’ 
that may be the saving of him.’ 

This latter piece of news gave Dick further cause 
for agitation, and his mother’s distress grew with his 
deepening melancholy. She was alarmed for his 
health, and had been trying ever since the return 
from Yarraman to induce him to drink copious 
draughts of her favorite specific, camomile tea, but 
without success; the boy knew of no ailment and 
could imagine none that would not be preferable to 
camomile tea taken in large doses. 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


203 


On the following morning at about eleven o’clock a 
visitor called upon Mr. Joel Ham at the school, a 
slightly-built skinny man in a drab suit. He carried 
a small parcel, and this he opened on the master’s 
desk as he talked in a slow sleepy way, the sleepiness 
accented by his inability to lift his eyelids like other 
people, so that they hung drowsily, almost veiling the 
eyes. After a few minutes Joel stepped forward and 
addressed the Fifth Class: 

‘ Boys, attend ! Each of you take off his left boot. ’ 

The boys stared incredulously. 

‘Your left boots,’ repeated the master. ‘This 
gentleman is — eh — a chiropodist, and eh — come, 
come!’ Joel Ham slashed the desk: the boys 
hastened to remove their left boots, handed them to 
the stranger, and watched him curiously as he ex- 
amined them at the desk. The astonished scholars 
could see little, but the man in drab had two plaster 
casts before him and he was deliberately comparing 
the boys’ boots with these. When he came to Dick’s 
boot he turned carelessly to the master and said : 

‘ This is our man. ’ 

‘ Richard Haddon, the first boy on the back seat.’ 

The chiropodist did not look up. 

‘ Boy with red hair,’ he said. ‘ Mixed up in that 
Cow Flat road affair. Evidently an enterprising 
nipper, on the high road to the gallows. ’ 

Joel Ham drew thumb and forefinger from the 
corners of his mouth to the point of his chin, and 
blinked his white lashes rapidly. 


204 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


he said, quite emphatically; ‘ I don’t often 
give advice — sensible people don’t need it, fools won’t 
take it — but you might waste time by regarding that 
boy’s share in this business from a wrong point of 
view. If he has had a hand in it — and I have no 
doubt of it since his foot appears — think of him at 
the worst as the accomplice of some scoundrel cun- 
ning enough to impose upon the folly of a romantic 
youngster stuffed with rubbishy fiction, and gifted 
with an extraordinarily adventurous spirit.’ 

This was perhaps the longest speech ever made by 
Joel Ham in ordinary conversation since he came to 
Waddy, and it quite exhausted him. The stranger 
yawned pointedly. 

^ Where does he live? ’ he asked. 

‘ Third house down the road. Mother a widow.’ 

‘ Hight. You might make an excuse to send him 
home presently. You are a discreet man, Mr. Ham.’ 

‘ In everybody’s business but my own, Mr. Downy. 

The stranger took up his parcel and marched out, 
and the boots having been restored to their owners 
work was resumed. About twenty minutes later 
Dick was called out, and Joel presented him with an 
envelope. 

‘Take that note to your mother. Ginger, will you? 
Stay a moment,’ he said, as Dick turned away. He 
took the boy by the coat and blinked at him com- 
plaisantly for a moment. 

‘ When in doubt, my boy, always tell the truth,’ 
he said. 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


205 


Noting a puzzled expression in Dick’s face, he con- 
descended to explain. 

‘ When you’re asked many questions and want an 
answer, tell the truth. Lies, my boy, are for fools 
and rogues — remember, fools and rogues.’ 

Dick set his lips and nodded ; and the master, after 
regarding him curiously for a moment, actually patted 
his head — an uncommon exhibition of feeling on his 
part that caused the scholars to gape with wonder- 
ment. 

When Dick reached his home he was astonished to 
find his mother seated in the front room with her 
handkerchief to her eyes, crying quite violently. Op- 
posite her sat the man in drab, swinging his hat be- 
tween his knees and looking exactly as if he had just 
been awakened from a nap. The man walked to the 
door, locked it, and then resumed his seat. 

‘ Now, my lad,’ he said, ‘ attend to me. My name 
is Downy. I am a detective, and I have found you out. ’ 

The admission was not a wise one; it blanched 
Dick’s lips, but it closed them like a spring-trap. 

‘I have found you out,’ continued the detective. 
‘He has been arrested.’ The detective emphasised 
the ‘ he, ’ and watched the effect. Dick stood before 
him, white and silent, his heart beating with quick 
blows, and his blood humming in his ears, ‘Who? 
Who? Who?’ 

‘ The man who went down with you has been ar- 
rested, my lad, and now you must tell me the whole 
truth to save yourself. He says you hammered Harry 


206 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


Hardy on the head with an iron bar, and if you do not 
clear yourself I must take you to gaol. ’ 

Dick answered nothing ; his eyes never moved from 
the green bee on the wall even to glance at his mother 
sobbing in the corner. 

‘ Come, come, come ! ’ cried Downy impatiently, 
^ it’s no good your denying that you were in the mine 
on Sunday night. Y ou came home covered with slurry, 
marked with blood, and very frightened. Your 
mother admits that, and we have found your footprints 
in the clay of the Silver Stream drives at both levels. 
Besides, the man says you were there. How, tell me 
this, and I will let you go free : who has the key of 
the grating over the mouth of the old Bed Hand ? ’ 

^ Oh! Dickie, my boy, my poor boy — why don’t 
you answer? ’ sobbed Mrs. Haddon. 

Tlie detective tried again, threatened, pleaded, and 
cajoled, and Mrs. Haddon used all her motherly arti- 
fices; but not one word came from the boy’s locked 
lips. Dick was possessed by a vivid hallucination ; 
he seemed to be standing in the centre of a whirlwind. 
Downy and his mother were dim figures beyond, seen 
through the dust ; and like shreds of paper whirled in 
the vortex, visions of Miss Chris’s face, netted in fair 
hair, passed swiftly before his eyes, and the expression 
on each race was beseeching and sorrowful. Hothing 
could have dragged the truth from him at that 
moment. 

Downy stood up and hung over Dick, scratching his 
head in a despairing way. 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


207 


‘ I’m sorry, ma’am,’ he said, ‘ but I’ll have to take 
him.’ 

‘He’s shieldin’ some villain,’ moaned Mrs. Had- 
don. 

The detective took the widow aside and whispered 
with her for a few minutes, with the result that she 
dried her eyes and was much consoled. 

Dick was taken away in Manager Holden’s trap and 
lodged in gaol at Yarraman ; and when the news leaked 
out, as it did towards evening, Waddy had a new sensa- 
tion, and quite the most startling one in its experience. 
Before the women went to bed that night they had 
found Dick guilty of robbing the Silver Stream of 
thousands of ounces of gold and perpetrating a mur- 
derous assault on Harry Hardy. The news brought 
J oe Rogers and Ephraim Shine together at their secret 
meeting- place in the corner paddock — Rogers much 
disturbed and puzzled. Shine shaken almost out of his 
wits. 

‘I’m goin’ to bolt, I tell you ! ’ cried the searcher. 

Rogers gripped him roughly. 

‘Bolt,’ he said, ‘an’ you’re doomed — done for. 
Hell ! man, can’t you see you’d be grabbed in less’n a 
day? With that mug an’ that figure you’d be spotted 
whatever hole you crept into.’ 

‘I know, I know; but it’ll come anyhow — it’ll 
come ! ’ 

‘Hot so sure, unless you blab in one of these 
blitherin’ fits. What does that kid know? Nothin’. 
He’s found our gold, an’ he’s hid it away. He 


208 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


wants to keep it, an’ you know what a stubborn devil 
he is. This is just a try on, an’ they’ll get nothin’ 
out o’ Dick Haddon. If they do they get the gold, 
an’ we’re all right if we don’t play the fool.’ 

Rogers’s reasoning was very good as far as it went; 
but the discovery of the boy’s footprints in the drives 
had been kept a close secret, or even he might have 
admitted the wisdom of bolting without delay. 

Dick spent a day and two nights in the cell at the 
watch-house in Yarraman. Public report at Waddy 
was to the effect that every influence short of torture 
had been used in the effort to induce him to divulge 
the truth, and not a word had he spoken. His mother 
and Mrs. Hardy and Harry had all visited him in the 
cell, and had failed to persuade him to open his lips. 
His callousness in the presence of his poor mother’s 
distress was described in feeling terms as unworthy of 
the black and naked savage. All this was much nearer 
the truth than speculation at Waddy was wont to be; 
and when Dick was restored to his home in the flesh on 
Saturday at noon and permitted to run at large again 
without let or hindrance, Waddy was amazed and indig- 
nant, and Waddy’ s criticism of the methods of the 
police authorities was scathing in the extreme. 

The boy was driven home by the sergeant, the same 
who had been commissioned to quell the Great Goat 
Riot. 

^He’s looking pulled down,’ said the trooper, de- 
livering him into his mother’s arms. ‘ It’s the con- 
finement. Let him run about as usual, Mrs. Haddon ; 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


209 


let him have lots of fresh air, particularly night air, 
and he’ll soon be all right. At night, Mrs. Haddon, 
the air is fresh and healthy. Let him run about in 
the evenings, you know.’ 

Mrs. Haddon was very grateful for the advice and 
promised to act upon it. But Dick was a new boy ; 
he remained in doors all Saturday and Sunday, wan- 
dering a])Out the house in an aimless manner, trying 
to read and failing, trying to divert himself in unu- 
sual ways and failing in everything. He presented 
all the symptoms of a guilty, conscience-stricken 
wretch ; and his mother, who had been priming him 
with camomile surreptitiously, began to lose confidence 
in that wonderful herb. 

Meanwhile a very interesting stranger had made his 
appearance at Waddy ; he was believed to be a drover, 
and he was on the spree and ^ shouting ’ with spon- 
taneity and freedom. His horse, a fine upstanding 
bay, stood saddled and bridled under McMahon’s shed 
at the Drovers’ Arms by day and night. His beha- 
viour in drink was original and erratic. He would 
fraternise with the man at the bar for a time, and 
then go roaming at large about the township in a des- 
ultory way, ^sleeping casually in all sorts of absurd 
places; but Waddy had a large experience in 
‘ drunks,’ and made liberal allowances. 

Miss Chris called in at Mrs. Haddon ’s home on 
Sunday evening shortly after tea. She had not been 
to chapel, and was anxious about her father, who had 
absented himself from his duties as superintendent of 


210 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


late and whose behaviour had been most extraordinary 
when she called on him on two or three occasions dur- 
ing the week. She was afraid of fever, and sought 
advice from Mrs. Haddon, who unhesitatingly recom- 
mended camomile tea. Then Dick’s ailment was dis- 
cussed and Chris, much concerned, went and sat by 
the boy, who cowered over his book, too full to 
answer her kind inquiries. She put an arm about 
him and talked with tender solicitude; she sympa- 
thised with him in his troubles, and was angry with 
all his enemies, more especially the police, whose folly 
amazed her. Here a large tear rolled down Dick’s 
nose and splashed upon the open page, and when she 
pressed him to tell all he might know and not to suffer 
abuse and shame to shield some wicked villain, he 
quite collapsed, and sat with his head sunk upon his 
arms, sobbing hysterically. This was so unlike the 
boy that Christina was quite amazed, and her eyes 
travelled anxiously to and from Dick’s bowed head 
and his mother’s distressed face. Then the women, 
to give him time to recover himself, sat together talk- 
ing of other matters — Harry Hardy mainly — and 
Dick, ashamed of his tears, crept away to bury his 
effeminate sobs amongst the Cape broom in the 
garden. 

Dick had not sat alone more than a minute when 
he heard a sharp whistle from the back. It was 
Jacker Mack’s whistle and at first Dick did not re- 
spond, but sat mopping his tears with his sleeves. 
The whistle was repeated three or four times, and at 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


211 


length he determined to meet Jacker, thinking there 
might be some news about the reef in the Mount of 
Gold. He passed out through the side gate, and 
along to the fowl-house at the corner, behind which 
he expected to find his mate sitting. But when he 
reached the corner a pair of strong arms snatched him 
from the ground, and he was borne away at a rapid 
pace in the direction of Wilson’s paddock. His face 
was crushed against the breast of the man who held 
him, in such a way that it was impossible for him to 
utter the slightest sound. 

Across the flat in the shallow quarry he was thrown 
to the ground, and for a moment he caught a glimpse 
of his captor in the darkness, a powerfully built man, 
wearing a viator cap that covered the whole of his 
face and head, with the exception of the eyes. 

^ Let one yelp out o’ you an’ I’ll crush yer head 
with a rock ! ’ whispered the man ferociously. 

Dick was blindfolded and gagged, and his arms and 
legs were tied with rope, his enemy kneeling on him 
the while and hurting him badly in his brutal haste. 

The boy was caught up again and thrown on the 
man’s shoulder, and the journey was continued at a 
trot. He knew when the bush was reached, because 
here a fence had to be climbed. He tried to under- 
stand what this adventure might mean, but his 
thoughts were all confused and the gag made breath- 
ing so difScult that once or twice he feared he was go- 
ing to die. 

When at last the man stopped and Dick was 


212 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


dropped to the ground, they had travelled about a 
mile and a half into the bush. He heard the sound 
of timbers being moved, and presently was caught up 
again ; after much fumbling and an oath or two from 
his companion the latter withdrew his support, and 
Dick felt himself to be dangling in the air from the 
rope that tied his limbs. How the bandage was pulled 
from his eyes, and the boy, after staring about 
through the starlit night for a few moments, terrified 
and amazed, began to realise his position. 

‘ Know where you are, me beauty ? ’ asked the big 
man who stood before him, and who spoke as if with 
a pebble on his tongue. 

Dick knew where he was. He was hanging over 
the open shaft of the Piper Mine, another of Waddy’s 
abandoned claims, suspended from one of the skids 
by a stout rope. 

‘ Look down,’ commanded the man. 

Dick obeyed and saw only the black yawning shaft. 

‘Know she’s deep, don’t yer? There’s three hun- 
dred feet o’ shaft below you there. That’s the short 
road to hell. How look here.’ 

He fiashed the bright blade of a large knife before 
the eyes of his prisoner ; then, seating himself on a 
broken truck near the shaft he began deliberately to 
sharpen the knife on his boot. The operation was not 
in the least hurried — the man was desirous of making 
a deep impression. 

‘There,’ he said at length, ‘that’s beautiful. 
Feel! ’ He cut the skin of Dick’s nose with a touch 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


213 


of the keen edge. ‘ Now, listen here. I’m goin’ to 
take this bandage off yer month, ’cause I’ve a few 
perticular questions to ask an’ yon must answer ’em, 
bnt understand first that one little yell from you, an’ 

’ He made a blood-curdling pretence of cutting 

at the rope above Dick’s head. ‘ You’d go plug to 
the bottom an’ be smashed to fifty bits ! ’ 

The man removed the gag and reseated himself on 
the old truck. As he talked he toyed with the ugly 
knife, making occasional passes on the side of his left 
boot resting on his knee. 

‘ Look here, young feller,’ he said, ^ if you tell me 
lies down you go, understand? D’ye believe me? ’ 
he asked with sudden ferocity. 

‘Yes,’ whispered Dick. 

‘ Well then listen, an’ answer quick an’ lively. 
Where’s the bag of gold you stole outer that big tree 
beyond the Ked Hand? ’ 

Dick’s heart jumped like a startled hare. He 
recognised his enemy now in spite of his cap and his 
disguised voice. It was Joe Rogers. 

‘ D’ye deny takin’ it? ’ asked the man sharply. 

‘Yes,’ said Dick, cold at heart and quaking in ev- 
ery limb. 

‘Damn you for a young liar! Fer two pins I’d 
send you straight to smash. I know you’ve got that 
gold stowed somewhere. Where? ’ 

The boy gave him no answer, and Rogers sprang 
to his feet, and tickled him again with the knife. 

‘You whelp!’ he said hoarsely. ‘I’d think ez 


S14 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


much of slaughterin’ you ez I would of brainin’ a cat. 
Speak, if you want to live ! Where’s that gold? ’ 
Dick was convinced that the man would be as good 
as his word, but he still lingered, casting about help- 
lessly for an excuse, a hope of escape. 

‘ Blast you, won’t you speak? ’ 

Dick felt the knife cut into the rope above his 
head, and shrieked aloud in a paroxysm of terror. 

‘ Stop, stop ! I’ll tell ! ’ 

‘ Tell then, an’ be quick. That’s one strand o’ 
the rope gone; there’s two more. Speak!’ He 
raised the knife threateningly. 

‘ It’s under that big flat stone near the spring in 
the Gaol Quarry. ’ The lie came almost involuntarily 
from the boy’s lips in instantaneous response to a new 
impulse. But he was doomed to disappointment. 

^Goodl’ ejaculated the man. ‘How, you go 
with me. I don’t trust you; you’re too smart a kid 
to be trusted.’ As he spoke he twisted the gag into 
Dick’s mouth again. ‘Ho,’ he cried with a sudden 
change of intention, ‘you’ll stay where you are. 
You’re safe enough here. While I’m away think o’ 
what’s below you there, an’ pray yer hardest in case 
you’ve lied to me, because if you have you’re done 
fer. I’ll kill you, s’elp me God, I will! ’ 

Rogers took a bee line through the scrub in the 
direction of the quarry, leaving Dick hanging over 
the open shaft. The Gaol Quarry was not more than 
half a mile off, and Rogers ran the whole of the dis- 
tance. He made his way clumsily down the rocky 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


215 


side from the hill, falling heavily from half the height 
and bruising himself badly, but paying no attention 
to his injuries in the anxiety of the moment. He 
found the big flat stone after a minute’s search, and 
succeeded in turning it only after exerting his great 
strength to the utmost. There was nothing under- 
neath. Yes, there was something; a snake hissed at 
him in the darkness and slid away amongst the broken 
rock. Rogers fell upon his knees and groped about 
blindly, but the ground was hard. There was no 
sign of the gold anywhere, and not another stone in 
the quarry that answered to the boy’s description. 
Possessed with a stupid blundering fury against Dick, 
Rogers turned back towards the Piper. He breathed 
horrible blasphemies as he ran, and struck at the scrub 
in his insensate rage. He was a man of fierce pas- 
sions, and meant murder during those first few min- 
utes — murder swift and ruthless. He reached the 
Piper breathless from his exertions and wild with pas- 
sion. He did not even pause to resume his disguise, 
but ran to the shaft, cursing as he went. There he 
stopped like a man shot, his figure stiffened, his arms 
thrown out straight before him ; his eyes, wide and 
full of terror, stared between the skids rising from 
the shaft to the brace above. 

Dick Haddon was not there. The space was empty, 
the rope’s end moved lazily in the wind. 

The revulsion of feeling was terrible : it left the 
strong man as weak as a child, it turned the desperate 
criminal into a mumbling coward. Rogers staggered 


216 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


to the shaft and examined the rope. It had broken 
where one strand was cut ; the other strands were 
frayed out. The gold -stealer fell upon his knees and 
tried to call, but a mere gasp was the only sound that 
escaped his lips. He remained for a minute or two 
gazing helplessly into the pitch blackness of the shaft ; 
then, recovering somewhat with a great effort, he 
rose to his feet, untied the remainder of the rope 
from the skid and dropped it into the shaft, and turn- 
ing his back on the mine fled away through the pad- 
docks towards Waddy. As he issued from the bush a 
quarter of an hour later, and crossed the open flat, a 
slim flgure slipped from the furze covering the rail 
fence and followed him noiselessly at a distance. 





HE SNATCHED HIS GUN FROM A CORNER AND STEPPED OUT 


CHAPTEE XVIII. 


When Eogers reached his hut he sat for some 
time in the dark, thinking over his position. It had 
been his intention all along to make his escape from 
the district the moment he succeeded in recovering 
the gold, and now, in his horror at the consequences 
of his last act, he was incapable of cold reason. His 
one desire was to get away as far as possible from the 
scene of his crimes. He lit a candle, and the drunken 
drover, peeping through a crack, saw him spread a 
blanket on the floor and set to work hastily to make a 
swag. The drover watched him for a minute and 
then sped ofi in the darkness. Shortly after this 
Eogers was startled at the sound of a shrill and pecu- 
liar whistle. Jumping up on the impulse of the 
moment, with the quick suspicion of a criminal, he 
snatched his gun from a corner and stepped out. 
Standing in the light thrown from his hut door, he 
heard the tramp of horses’ hoofs and a voice calling : 

‘ Stand and deliver! You are my prisoner! ’ 

Joe slipped into the shadow, sheltering himself 
behind the chimney, and saw two troopers riding at 
him. Instinctively his gun was lifted to his shoulder. 

‘ Bail up ! ’ he cried. ‘ A step nearer an’ I Are ! ’ 

217 


218 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


The troopers spurred their horses. Eogers clinched 
his teeth, his eye ran along the barrel, he covered the 
leading man and fired. The trooper was fiung for- 
ward on his horse’s neck, his arms dangling limply on 
each side. His horse sprang to a gallop, and a minute 
later the man slid over its shoulder and fell, rolling 
almost to Joe’s feet as the animal rushed past. 

The second trooper fired a revolver, and the bullet 
chipped a slab at the gold-stealer’s ear. Eogers had 
him covered, and his finger was on the trigger when 
the gun was whirled from his hands and a man who 
had stolen up from the back closed with him. The 
new-comer was slim, and Eogers felt that he might 
break him between his hands if he could only get a 
proper grip ; but the drunken drover — for it was he — 
was as sinuous as an eel, and a moment later Joe was 
on the broad of his back with the ‘ darbies ’ on his 
wrists and a trooper kneeling on his chest, while the 
drover, transformed into Detective Downy, stood 
over them, mopping his face with his big false beard. 

The wounded trooper had recovered somewhat, and 
was on his hands and knees, with down-hanging head, 
in the light of the open door. 

‘‘How are you, Casey?’ asked the detective 
anxiously. 

‘ Aisy, sor. I’m jist wonderin’ if I’m dead or 
alive, ’ said the trooper in a still small voice, watching 
the blood-drops falling from his forehead. 

‘ Then the devil a bit’s the matter with you, 
Casey.’ 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


219 


^ Thank you, sor,’ said the trooper, with a trained 
man’s confidence in his superior. ^ Thin I’d best git 
up, p’raps.’ And he arose and stood dubiously 
fingering the furrow plowed along the top of his 
head by the gold stealer’s bullet. 

‘ Get him into the hut, ’ said Downy, indicating 
Eogers with a nod ; ‘ and hobble the brute — he’s 
dangerous. ’ 

Eogers, sitting on the edge of his bunk, hand- 
cuffed and leg-ironed, gazed sullenly at the detective. 

^ Well,’ he said, ‘ an’ now you’ve got me, what’s 
the charge? ’ 

‘A trifle of gold - stealing, ’ replied Downy, ‘and 
this,’ indicating Casey’s bleeding head. ‘To say 
nothing of the murder of your accomplice.’ 

Eogers blanched and glared at the detective, his 
face contorted and his eyes big with terror. 

‘ Shine,’ he murmured, ‘ d’ye mean Shine? It’s 
a lie; he’s not dead ! ’ 

Harry Hardy, who had just come upon the scene 
and was standing in the doorway, cried out at this. 

‘ Great God ! ’ he said. ‘ Then it was Ephraim 
Shine, after all ! ’ 

‘ Pooh ! ’ cried Eogers, ‘ it was a trick to trap me 
into givin’ his name. You needn’t ’a’ troubled yer- 
self. I don’t want to shield him — damn him! ’ 

‘ Do you know where this Shine’s to be got at? ’ 
asked Downy, appealing to Harry, who had been 
working in concert with the detective ever since his 
appearance in Waddy. 


220 


THE GOLD-STEALEKS. 


^ Yes,’ was the reply. ‘ I know his house. He’ll 
be easily taken. ’ 

‘ Then go with the sergeant. Take Casey’s horse. 
It’ll be with the other. Here,’ he threw Harry a 
revolver. ‘ Case of need, you know, but no shooting 
if it can be avoided.’ 

Harry thrust the weapon in his belt, and a minute 
later he and Sergeant Monk rode off in company to 
take Ephraim Shine in the name of the Queen. 

Meanwhile Dick was not at the bottom of the Piper 
shaft, as Rogers concluded in his haste. Joe had not 
left the boy half a minute when a second man made 
his appearance on the other side of the shaft. This 
was Downy, in his drover disguise. The detective, 
whose sole object in assuming the disguise was to watch 
Dick, believing that the boy would be sure to com- 
municate with the real thieves, had witnessed his 
capture by Rogers and had followed in the latter’s 
tracks; and now, after being entertained and in- 
structed by the words that had passed between Rogers 
and his captive, he cut Dick down, quickly frayed 
the end of the rope between two stones, and cut away 
Dick’s bonds, throwing the rope and gag into the 
shaft. 

‘How, my lad,’ he said sternly, ‘after that man. 
Take me the nearest track to the quarry you spoke of 
as quick as you can cut, and don’t make noise enough 
to wake a cat or I’ll hand you over to him when we 
get there.’ 

Dick did as he was bid ; and they were in time to 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


221 


overlook Rogers as he searched amongst the stones, 
and to overhear some of the language that announced 
his failure. At this stage the detective, who had re- 
tained his grip of Dick’s wrist, whispered: 

^ You can go now, but you must take a message 
from me to Harry Hardy. Go straight to his house 
and say, ' ' Downy says ‘ Ready. ’ ’ ’ Can I trust you ? ’ 

Dick nodded. 

‘ You’re a plucky lad,’ said Downy, ^ and I’ll take 
your word. OR you go, but make no noise.’ 

Dick crept quietly along the grass till he was well 
beyond hearing, and then ran down by Wilson’s 
ploughed land and out into the open country. He 
understood that the career of Joe Rogers as a gold- 
stealer was drawing to a close, and the knowledge 
brought him a certain sense of relief in spite of the 
fact that he quite realised Shine’s danger, and was 
more than ever devoted to the searcher’s daughter, 
more than ever pleased with the idea of her hearing 
some day how faithful and bold he had been, how true 
a knight to his liege lady. 

He burst into the room where Mrs. Hardy and 
Harry and Mrs. Haddon were seated, hatless and 
breathless, and filled his friends with alarm. 

‘Please, Harry, Downy says “Ready! ” ’ blurted 
Dick. 

Harry sprang to his feet and made for the door. 

‘That means he’s discovered something important, 
mother, ’ he said as he passed out. 

Dick followed, leaving the women astonished and 


222 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


curious j slipped away around the fence enclosing 
Harry’s home, and made off towards the other end of 
the township. His intention was to warn Ephraim 
Shine of the danger that threatened. He did not 
doubt but that Eogers, if he fell into the hands of the 
troopers, would tell all. 

There was a light burning in Shine’s skillion, and 
Dick’s knock was answered by Miss Chris, who wore 
her hat and was on the point of leaving for her home 
at Summers’. 

‘I want your father,’ said Dick quickly. ‘The 
troopers ’r’ after him. Tell him to bolt.’ 

‘Dickie — Dickie, whatever do you mean?’ cried 
Christina, greatly agitated. 

The next moment she was thrust aside and Shine 
appeared, showing a drawn gaunt face, the skin of 
which looked crinkled and yellow in the candle light, 
like old parchment. 

‘ What’s that? ’ he gasped. ‘ Who wants me? ’ 

‘You’re found out,’ said Dick, drawing back, 
shocked by the ghastly appearance of the man. 
‘They’re after Eogers. They’ve got him by this, I 
expect, an’ they’ll soon have you if you don’t make 
a bolt fer it.’ 

Shine uttered a wailing cry and Dick turned and 
fled again, afraid of being seen in the vicinity of the 
searcher’s abode by Downy or any of his men. Look- 
ing back he saw that the house was now in darkness, 
and surmised that Ephraim had taken advantage of 
his warning to escape into the bush. 


THE GOLD-STEALEKS. 


223 


When Harry Hardy and the trooper rode up to 
Shine’s house half an hour later, they found the place 
deserted. The door was on the latch, and the inte- 
rior gave no indication of a hurried departure, but the 
searcher was nowhere to be seen. 

‘It’s all right,’ said Harry, ‘he’ll be somewhere 
about the township. I’ll take a trip round an’ see 
if I can hit on him, if you’ll stay here an’ keep 
watch.’ 

‘Sight,’ said the sergeant, ‘but you’d best drop in 
on Downy and let him know. If our man gets wind 
of what’s happened he’ll skedaddle.’ 

‘ If he doesn’t we’ll nab him at the mine at one.’ 

Harry found that Downy had disposed of his pris- 
oner, having converted the cellar at the Drovers’ 
Arms into a lock-up for the time being, and smuggled 
Joe Sogers in so artfully that McMahon’s patrons in 
the bar were quite ignorant of the proximity of the 
prisoner and of the presence of the guardian angel 
sitting patiently in the next room, tenderly nursing a 
broken head and a six-barrelled Colt’s revolver. 

Harry and Downy searched Waddy from end to 
end in quest of Ephraim Shine, and saw nothing of 
him. Downy interviewed Christina without betray- 
ing his identity or his object, but could get no informa- 
tion of any value ; and when the missing man failed 
to put in an appearance at the Silver Stream to search 
the miners from the pump coming off work, the hunt 
was abandoned for the time being. 

‘He’s got wind of my game and cleared,’ said 


224 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


Downy, ‘ but we’ll have him before forty-eight hours 
have passed.’ 

‘ But how could he know? ’ asked Harry, impa- 
tient to lay Shine by the heels. 

‘ May have heard the shots. May have been hid- 
ing anywhere. But, never fret, we’ll round up your 
friend, my boy. Men of his make and shape are as 
easy to track as a hay waggon.’ 

In the early hours of the morning Downy drove his 
prisoner into Yarraman, and that day’s issue of the 
local Mercury contained a thrilling description of the 
capture of the Waddy gold-stealer — a description that 
created an unprecedented demand for the Mercury^ 
and quite compensated the gifted editor for the 
heartburnings he had endured over the bushranging 
fiasco. 

Waddy was dumbfounded when the Mercury came 
to hand, and horribly disgusted to think the stirring 
incident described had happened right under its nose, 
without its having the satisfaction of witnessing the 
least moving adventure or catching even a glimpse 
of the prisoner. Joe Eogers a free man was a familiar 
and commonplace object, but Joe Eogers handcuffed 
and leg-ironed in the custody of the law was a person 
of absorbing interest, and Waddy would have turned 
out to a man and woman to give him an appropriate 
send-off. 

There, before their eyes, set forth in the columns of 
the Mercury^ were the details of Detective Downy’s 
ruse, and valuable remarks enlarging upon the almost 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


225 


Biiperhuman astuteness of the officer in question ; the 
story of Dick’s capture by Eogers, the flight to the 
Piper shaft and all that happened there, the flght be- 
tween the gold-stealer and the troopers, the shooting 
of Casey, the overthrow of Rogers, and the hunt for 
Ephraim Shine ; all these things had happened in a 
small township within the space of a few hours, and 
Waddy, that had always found its Sunday nights hang 
so heavily on its hands, had been cheated out of every 
item of the bewildering list. It was a shame, an out- 
rage. Detective Downy was voted a public enemy, 
and his name was execrated from the chapel yard to 
McMahon’s bar. 

The only satisfaction available to the people was in 
going over the ground, and they flocked to Joe’s hut 
and congregated there, discussing, arguing, and pre- 
dicting ; examining with owlish wisdom the bullet mark 
on the hut chimney, and counting the blood spots on 
the worn track near the door where the hero Casey 
bled in defence of his country’s laws. Of course, ‘ the 
boy Haddon ’ was a favourite theme, and now Dick 
appeared as a public benefactor. The matter of the 
stolen gold had yet to be settled, but the most gener- 
ous view of this business was popular, and the confi- 
dence in Richard Haddon was complete. The women 
declared emphatically and without a blush that they 
had always believed in the honesty and intelligence 
and brave good heart of the boy. To be sure he was 
a bit wild and a little mischievous — but, there, what 
boy worth his salt was not? and, in spite of everything 


226 


THE GOLD-STEALEKS. 


they had all seen long ago that Widow Haddon’s young 
son was a good lad at bottom. His conduct in delud- 
ing Joe Eogers in the face of so terrible a danger re- 
flected credit upon Waddy, and Waddy gratefully 
responded by being heartily proud of him. A crowd 
marched to Mrs. Haddon’s back fence expressly to 
cheer Dick; and cheer him they did, in a solemn, 
matter-of-fact way, like a people performing a high 
public duty. Dick was not in the least moved by this 
display of feeling, but his mother was delighted and 
kissed him heartily, and responded on his behalf by 
shaking a towel out of the back window with great 
energy and much genuine emotion. 


CHAPTEE XIX. 


The detective had asked Harry to keep careful 
watch upon Dick, but the boy betrayed no inclination 
to roam, and when he did venture out it was to call 
upon Harry himself. Dick’s spirits had recovered 
marvellously, and if it were not for an occasional fit 
of sadness (induced by thoughts of Christina Shine) 
he would have been quite restored to his former 
healthy craving for devilment, and eager to call to- 
gether the shareholders of the Mount of Gold with a 
view to arranging further adventures. Harry, too, 
no longer felt the ill effects of his injuries, and in- 
tended returning to work in the course of a few days. 
The recent discoveries had served to lighten his heart, 
and yet thoughts of Christina welled bitterness ; but 
his mother was happy in the confidence that at last 
justice would be done and her son restored to her. 

Dick found Harry moodily smoking in the garden, 
and addressed him through the fence. 

‘ What d’ye think? ’ he said, with the air of one 
propounding a conundrum. 

Harry was not in a guessing mood ; he gave it up 
at once and Dick took another course. 

‘ I got somethin’ p’tickler to tell you,’ he said. 

221 


228 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


‘ Have you, Ginger? ’ Harry was quite alert now. 
‘ About this gold-stealin’ ? ’ 

‘ ISTo — o, not quite about that. I’m goin’ to tell 
all that to Downy, but it’s somethin’ jist as p’ tickler 
— about a reef we found. ’ 

^ A reef? Nonsense, Dick. How could you find 
a reef? ’ 

‘ By diggin’ fer it, I s’ pose. What’d you think if 
I said we fellers’ ve got a mine — a really mine — me 
an’ Jacker Mack, an’ Ted McKnight, an’ Billy Peter- 
son, an’ Phil Doon? What’d you say, eh? ’ 

‘I’d say you didn’t know what you were talking 
about. Ginger, my boy.’ 

‘ But if I took you down the shaft an’ showed you 
the reef, an’ showed you stone with gold stickin’ in it 
— suppose I done that, how then? ’ 

‘ Where is this reef? ’ asked Harry, becoming im- 
pressed by the boy’s earnestness. 

‘ Tellin’s ! ’ 

‘ But didn’t you come to tell me? ’ 

‘Come to tell you we’d found it, an’ to ask what 
to do, so’s no one can jump it. We want it took up 
on a proper lease, all right fer me an’ the rest o’ the 
fellers, an’ we’ll let you stand in.’ 

‘ I can’t take up a lease unless I know where the 
reef is, can I? ’ 

‘ Well, it ain’t far from the Red Hand.’ 

‘ Nonsense, Dick ! The bottom must be over three 
hundred feet deep there. You couldn’t cut a reef any 
shallower than that. ’ 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


229 


‘ On’y we have. ’ 

Harry sat for a moment lost in thought. He had 
suddenly recalled old talk about mysterious indications 
of a shallow reef in that locality, a reef the existence 
of which would have been in open opposition to 
mining traditions, and contrary to all locally known 
theories of scientific mining. He remembered hear- 
ing of a shaft that had been put down by a few be- 
lievers, in defiance of local derision ; he recalled, too, 
the eccentric and unheard-of drive thrown out by the 
Eed Hand in some such absurd quest, and his respect 
for the boy’s opinion grew into something like con- 
viction. 

^ It’s very queer, Dick,’ he said; ^ but if you’ll 
show it to me I’ll do all I can for you.’ 

‘ That’s good ! You see we’re all in it. We’re 
the Mount of Gold Quartz-minin’ Company — me an’ 
Jacker an’ them — but it’s on’y a make-believe com- 
pany, an’ I’d like Mr. McKnight, an’ Mr. Peterson, 
an’ Mr. Doon to come, an’ the detective cove too, 
cause there’s somethin’ else there — somethin’ else 
p’ tickler too.’ 

‘ Very well, we can go an’ see McKnight an’ Peter- 
son, but they’ll laugh at us.’ 

‘ When they laugh we’ll show ’em this,’ said Dick, 
producing a lump of quartz. 

Harry took the stone in his hand ; it was not larger 
than a hen’s egg and of a dark colour, but studded 
thickly with clean gold, and as he gazed at it his pipe 
fell from his mouth and his eyes rounded. He pursed 


230 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


his lips to whistle his astonishment, and forgot to do 
it ; he lifted his hand to scratch his head and it stuck 
half-way ; he turned and turned the stone, stupid with 
surprise. 

‘ By the holy, your fortune’s made if there’s much 
o’ this ! ’ he blurted at length. 

‘ Think there’s heaps of it,’ said Dick coolly. 

‘ When can we go to it? ’ 

‘ When the detective cove comes, an’ I’ve told him 
’bout somethin’.’ 

‘ Somethin’ good for us, Dick? ’ asked Harry anx- 
iously. 

Dick nodded his head slowly several times. 

^ Well, if this don’t lick cock-fighting. Have you 
told your mother? ’ 

‘Ho,’ said Dick. 

‘ Hothing about this either? How’s that? ’ 

‘Oh,’ said Dick with a man’s superiority, ‘she 
wouldn’t understand. She don’t know nothin’ ’bout 
minin’, you know.’ 

Harry looked down upon his young friend curious- 
ly for a moment. 

‘ D’you know,’ he said, ‘you’re a most amazing 
kind of a kid?’ 

‘ How? ’ asked Dick shortly. 

‘ Why in the way you get mixed up in things.’ 

‘ ’Tain’t my fault if things happen, is it? ’ asked the 
boy in an injured tone. 

‘ S’pose it ain’t,’ replied Harry with a grin; ‘ but 
they all seem to come your way somehow. Look 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


231 


here — it can’t matter now — tell me how you came to 
be in the Stream drive that night? ’ 

Dick kicked up a tuft of grass, bored one heel into 
the soft turf, and answered nothing. 

‘ Come on, old man, I won’t turn dog.’ 

‘ I’m goin’ to tell it to Detective Downy first. 
’Twasn’t nothin’ much anyhow. I jes’ went down.’ 

Dick would say nothing more. He found himself 
on the side of the law for the first time, and felt 
he owed a duty to Downy, whom he regarded as al- 
most as great a man as Sam Sagacious. Downy had 
come to his rescue in an hour of dire peril. Downy had 
trusted him and taken him into his confidence to some 
extent, and he was determined to do the fair and 
square thing by the detective, at least so far as he 
could do so without interfering with his sacred obliga- 
tion to handsome, unhappy Christina Shine. 

The detective returned to the township in the after- 
noon to prosecute the search for Ephraim, of whom 
nothing had yet been heard. In the presence of his 
mother and Mrs. Hardy and Harry, Dick faced the 
officer to tell his story ; but he found it hard to begin. 

‘Well, my lad,’ said Downy, ‘ you’re going to tell 
all you know? ’ 

Dick nodded, abashed by his new importance. 

‘ Out with it then. You were in that drive? ’ 

‘Yes.’ 

‘ You went down with Rogers and Shine? ’ 

‘I didn’t.’ 

‘ Very well, my boy, how did you go? ’ 


232 


THE GOLD-STEALEPtS. 


^ Went by myself. Out of a drive what I know 
into the Ked Hand workin’s, an’ down the Ked Hand 
ladders. ’ 

‘ But why? Go ahead — why? ’ 

‘ To — to drag Harry out o’ the water.’ 

There w^ere three distinct gasps at this, and even the 
detective’s eyelids went up a trifle. 

‘ Go on, Dick.’ 

Now having started, Dick told his story in full. 
The incidents were not told consecutively, and he 
needed considerable cross-examining before the tale 
was properly fitted together and his audience of four 
had grasped the full details. Then Mrs. Hardy arose 
from her seat and moved towards him somewhat un- 
steadily; knelt by his side, took him in her arms 
softly and quietly, kissed him, and said in a very low 
voice : 

‘ God bless you, Eichard ; God bless you, my brave 
boy.’ 

This, for some reason quite incomprehensible to the 
boy, caused a lump to swell in his breast and gave him 
an altogether uncalled-for inclination to blubber ; but 
he swalloM'Cd it down with an effort, and then his 
mother hugged him in that billowy energetic way of 
hers. After which Harry took his hand and shook it 
for quite a long time without speaking a word. The 
detective alone was undemonstrative. 

‘Now,’ said he, ‘what about this gold? You 
hid it? ’ 

‘ Yes. In our shaft.’ 


THE GOLD-STEALEKS. 


233 


‘ Look here, Master Dick, why have you kept all 
this so quiet? Why did you go down that mine in- 
stead of running for help? Come, there is something 
at the back of all this ; out with it ! ’ 

Dick’s lips closed in a familiar way, and their col- 
ourlessness indicated a stubborn defiance of all ar- 
gument and persuasion. 

‘ Did you want to steal the gold yourself? ’ 

‘1^0,’ cried the boy angrily. 

^ Then you were afraid of something. By heaven ! 
I have it. You rip! ’twas you gave warning to 
Ephraim Shine. You deserve six months.’ 

‘ Shame ! ’ murmured Mrs. Hardy. 

‘ ’Tisn’t fair! ’ expostulated Dick’s mother. 

Dick’s lips were closed again, and he stared de- 
fiantly at the detective. 

^Well, well,’ groaned Downy, Hhis is the most 
extraordinary thing in boys that I have ever en- 
countered, but he’s a mass of grit — for good or bad, 
all grit. Shake hands, Dick.’ 

Dick brightened up, and shook hands cheerfully. 

‘ You’re quite sure about that gold? You hid it 
securely?’ queried the detective. 

‘Yes, I buried it under the reef quite safe.’ 

‘ And nobody knows of this hole but yourself? ’ 

‘ Yes, Jacker knows, an’ Ted, an’ Billy Peterson, 
an’ ’ 

‘Bless my soul, the whole township knows! We 
won’t get an ounce of that gold — not a colour. We’d 
better make the search at once, Mr. Hardy. You’ll 


234 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


need a rope and tools, I suppose. Hunt up the men 
you spoke of as quickly as possible, will you? ’ 

Harry and Dick started off together in quest of 
McKnight. He was on the night shift, and they 
found him in bed. Harry explained. McKnight 
was scornful and profane. 

M^hat — that boy Had don again? ’ he cried. ^ How 
what’s his little game? What devilment’s he up to? ’ 

‘ But this looks all right,’ Harry expostulated. 

‘All right, my grandmother’s cat! You’ll be 
findin’ quartz reefs in a gum-tree next.’ 

‘ You ask Jacker an’ Ted,’ put in Dick resentfully, 
hurt to find his well-intentioned efforts so ungracious- 
ly received. 

‘ Ask Jacker, is it? If Jacker comes playin’ any 
of your monkey tricks with me, my lad. I’ll make 
him smell mischief, I tell you. ’ 

‘ But hang it all. Mack ! you might as well come 
an’ see. I own the chances o’ finding a shallow reef 
in that locality look blue, but you know there was 
talk o’ something of the kind years ago. ’ 

‘ Yes, talk by fellers that didn’t know a quartz lode 
from a load o’ bricks or a stone wall. Get out, I’m 
sleepy. ’ 

‘ Show him the specimen,’ said Dick. 

Harry handed it over. 

‘ The boy says this is from his show. How’s that? ’ 
he said. 

McKnight took the stone indifferently, cast his eye 
over it, and then sat up with a jerk. He moistened 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


235 


tlie stone here and there, glared again in a strained 
silence, and one leg shot out of bed. He weighed 
the specimen in his hand, and the second leg followed. 
Then McKnight fell to dressing himself ; he literally 
jumped into his clothes, and as he buttoned his vest 
all askew, he gasped : 

‘ Hold on there — I’ll be with you in two twos ! ’ 

^Wouldn’t break my neck about it, old man,’ said 
Harry sarcastically, ‘ p’raps the boy made that speci- 
men out of a door knob an’ a bit of brick.’ 

‘Did he, but That’s just the same class o’ 

stone as the specimen Henderson found in the back 
paddock twelve years ago, that sent everyone daft 
after a reef there. Come on.’ 

McKnight was now much the most eager of the 
three, and led the way at a great pace to Peterson’s 
house. Peterson was more easily convinced, and in a 
few minutes the four joined Downy at Mrs. Hardy’s. 
The detective had borrowed a coil of rope, the neces- 
sary tools were provided, and the party set off. The 
five no sooner appeared on the fiat with their burdens 
than they were sighted by many of the people of 
Waddy, now eagerly on the lookout for adventure, 
and before they reached the bush they had quite a 
mob at their heels, fed by a thin stream of men, wo- 
men, and children hurrying to witness the newest 
development of Waddy’s latest and greatest 
affair. 

Dick led the men into the Gaol Quarry, and at the 
spring turned and pointed the way through the scrub 


236 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


growth under which he and his mates always crawled 
to get at the opening leading into the Mount of 
Gold. 

^ In there,’ he said, ^ agin the wall.’ 

Harry and McKnight broke a passage through the 
saplings and ti-tree. 

‘ ’Tween them two rocks,’ said Dick; ^ low down 
under the fern.’ 

‘ Yes,’ cried Harry, ‘ here we are ! Let’s have the 
hammer, Peterson.’ 

Harry broke away projecting pieces of stone, 
widening the aperture, and Dick and the detective 
joined them at the opening. 

‘I’ll go first,’ said tlie boy. ‘I can go down the 
ladder we made, but it mightn’t bear a man.’ 

Dick went below and lit a couple of candles. 
Nothing had been touched in the drive, and he peeped 
into the shaft and saw that the loose dirt there was as 
he left it. Harry joined him in a few minutes and 
McKnight followed. Tlie men came down on the 
boys’ curious ladder, but with a rope about their 
waists, paid out from above. Downy was the last to 
go below, Peterson remaining on the surface to keep 
the crowd back from the entrance. 

McKnight seized a candle, crawled to the extremity 
of Dick’s diminishing drive, and examined the place 
curiously. 

‘It’s right,’ he cried, ‘right as the bank. She's 
a dyke formation, I should say, an’ rich. By the 
holy, we’re made men — made men. Hardy! ’ 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


237 


Detective Downy was too deeply interested in his 
own quest to pay much attention to the miners. 

‘ Now, my lad,’ he said, ‘ where are we? ’ 

‘ The bag’s there under them lumps.’ Dick held 
his candle low, throwing its light into the shaft. 
Downy dropped from the slabs placed across from 
drive to drive into the bottom, and going on his 
knees threw aside the lumps of mullock indicated by 
the boy. Dick followed him holding the candle, and 
watching his movements, anxiously at first, and then 
with terror. He filing himself down beside the 
detective, and plunged his hand amongst the rubble, 
then ceased and faced the detective, mute, despairing. 

‘ Well, well,’ cried Downy in alarm, ‘ what is it? ’ 

‘ Gone ! ’ whispered Dick. 

^Gone? Are you sure? We have not searched 
yet.’ 

‘ It’s gone ! ’ 

‘You may have made a mistake. Hardy, Mc- 
Knight, lend a hand here.’ 

‘No good,’ said Dick, ‘it’s gone — it’s stolen. I 
put it right here, coverin’ it with this flat junk an’ a 
lot o’ small stuff. I know — I know quite well.’ 

Harry and McKnight went into the shaft with 
shovels, and turned over the dirt stowed there to the 
depth of two feet, but the bag was gone. 

‘ Show a light here, ’ Downy said suddenly, looking 
up at Dick from the slab on which he was seated 
above the two workers. He took the candle and 
examined the edge of the slab closely. 


238 


THE GOLD-STEALEKS. 


‘ You said the bag containing the stolen gold was 
made of hide. ’ 

‘Yes,’ said the boy, ‘green hide — just a calfskin 
bag, with the hair on.’ 

‘ Humph ! Then here is proof that part of your 
story is true anyhow.’ He held up a little tuft of 
reddish hair. 

‘ Eogers had a skin bag, a red-an’ -white one. 
Used to use it fer haulin’ in the shallow alluvial at Eel 
Creek. I’ve seen it at his hut often,’ said McKnight. 
‘ But, I say, mister, if you’ll take the advice of an 
old miner you’ll get out o’ this just as quick as you 
can lick. See, the timber’s been taken out o’ this 
shaft, an’ it’s a wonder to me it ain’t come down in 
a lump an’ buried them kids long since. It’s damn 
dangerous, I tell you.’ 

‘Very good,’ said Downy. ‘First have a look 
into these drives and then we’ll clear. Show me how 
you got through into the Bed Hand workings, Dick. ’ 

Dick led him along the drive and pointed out the 
little heap covering the opening where he had broken 
through. 

‘ Do you think that dirt’s been touched by anyone 
since you piled it there? ’ asked Downy. 

‘ Ho,’ said Dick, ‘ it seems jist the same.’ 

‘ Then the thief did not come that way. ’ The 
detective scattered the heap and examined the rough 
edges of the opening carefully. ‘ Ho cow hair 
there,’ he said. ‘We must hunt for that skin bag 
somewhere up aloft, Dick.’ 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


239 


When Dick reached the surface he found Hardy, 
McKnight, and Peterson standing apart from the 
crowd, with elate faces, talking earnestly. 

‘She’s a rich dyke,’ McKnight was saying, ‘an’ 
she’ll go plumb down to any depth. We must get 
the pegs in at once, an’ apply fer a lease. She just 
misses Silver Stream ground, an’ the ole Red Hand 
is forfeit long ago. Boys, it’s a fortune fer us.’ 

‘Remember Phil Boon’s a shareholder, too; his 
father’s got to be in it,’ said Dick. 

‘ To be sure, lad, to be sure ; all honest an’ fair to 
the boy pioneers. ’ 

Dick felt little enthusiasm about the Mount of Gold 
just then, for the loss of the bag of stolen gold troubled 
him sorely. He feared that Detective Downy regarded 
him as a liar and a cheat. 


CHAPTER XX. 

After coming up Downy examined the opening in 
the rock critically. 

‘ Do you think a man might have made his way 
through that hole before you broke the edges down ? ’ 
he asked Harry. 

‘ Well, yes, with some crowding I think he 
might’ve.’ 

^ Yet the boy said he had to squeeze his way 
through. Did you notice if the opening had been en- 
larged recently? Were there indications of recent 
breakages? ’ 

^ Yes, the stone had been broken in places. I 
s’posed the boys did that.’ 

‘ Perhaps. Here, Dick.’ 

Dick was quite sure neither he nor any of his mates 
had increased the opening. They kept it small because 
it was easier to hide ; besides, he said, it was more fun 
having to squeeze through. 

‘ Which of your mates took that bag? ’ asked Downy 
sharply. 

‘ Hone of ’em.’ 

‘ Why are you so positive? ’ 

‘ ’Cause I know they wouldn’t be game.’ 


240 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


241 


‘ Afraid of the darkness or the mine? ’ 

‘'No, afraid o’ me.’ Dick squared his shoulders 
manfully. 

‘ Get out — why should they be afraid of you? ’ 

‘ Wasn’t I legal an’ minin’ manager an’ chairman 
o’ the directors? If one did what I told him not to 
he’d get the sack an’ a lickin’, too.’ 

‘ Oh, he would, eh? Well, you’d better give me 
their names anyhow. And now,’ he continued after 
jotting down the names of the shareholders of the 
Mount of Gold, ‘ show me the track you took when 
you dragged the hide bag through the quarry.’ 

Dick went back over his tracks, and Downy fol- 
lowed slowly on hands and knees, rescuing a hair or 
two from the edges of the rock or from a bramble here 
and there. 

^ Fortunately that bag of yours shed its hair freely, 
old man,’ he said. ‘ Here’s corroborative evidence 
anyhow. The bag went down all right — now let’s 
see what proof there is that it came up again.’ 

He returned to the hole in the rock and commenced 
another search, with his nose very close to the ground, 
moving slowly, and peering diligently into every little 
cranny amongst the stones. At length, after travelling 
about ten yards in the direction of the spring in this 
fashion, he called sharply: 

^ Hi, Dick ! What were you doing with that bag 
here? ’ 

‘Never had it nowhere near here,’ answered 
Dick. 


242 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


‘ Come, recollect; you put it down for a spell.’ 

^Didn’t,’ said Dick. ‘Went straight along the 
side, an’ dropped it into the shaft. ’ 

‘ But look — there’s hair on the top of this rock and a 
tuft on the corner. Mustn’t tell me a cow would roost 
there, my lad.’ 

‘ Don’t care — ’twasn’t me.’ 

Downy sat on the rock for a moment in a brown 
study, and the crowd, which had made itself comfort- 
able in one end of the quarry and up one side, sat in 
awed silence, watching him closely, like a theatre au- 
dience waiting for some wonder-worker to perform his 
feats of magic. 

The detective did nothing astonishing. After col- 
lecting a portion of the hair he deposited it carefully 
in his pocket-book, deposited the book just as carefully 
in his breast-pocket, and then climbed out of the quarry 
and marched away towards the township; and the 
crowd, relieved from the restraint imposed by the 
law as personified in him, gathered about the stone 
and examined it wisely, discovering a much longer and 
more significant sermon in it than Downy had ever sus- 
pected, and finding marrow-freezing suggestiveness in 
the marks of rust upon the face of the rock, which 
were declared by common consent to be bloodstains. 
Waddy confidently expected the gold-stealing case to 
culminate in the discovery of a particularly atrocious 
murder, and Ephraim Shine was selected as the prob- 
able victim. It was held by many that so good a man 
as the superintendent had seemed to be could not rea- 


THE GOLD-STEALEKS. 


243 


sonably be suspected of consorting with a sinner like 
Joe Rogers with criminal intentions, and the idea that 
he had been murdered by the real thieves under 
peculiarly shocking circumstances was held to be more 
feasible, and was, in addition to that, highly satisfac- 
tory from a dramatic point of view. 

The investigations of the people stopped short at 
the entrance to the shaft, where Peterson mounted 
guard and warned them off in the name of the law, 
and meanwhile Hardy and McKnight were pegging 
out the land preparatory to applying for a lease. 

Downy went straight from the quarry to Shine’s 
house, and, much to his surprise, found the missing 
man’s daughter there. Christina had altered much 
during the last few hours : her face was now quite 
colourless, grief had robbed it of its sweet simplicity, 
and the buoyant ingenuousness had fled from her eyes. 
A new character was legible there, a strength of will 
more in keeping with her flne presence. The almost 
childlike sympathy was gone, and in its place was a 
trace of suffering and evidence of the deeper forces 
of her nature. The detective eyed her keenly, with 
surprise and interest, and saluted her in his most re- 
spectful manner. 

‘ You have had the — eh, misfortune to meet me 
before. Miss Shine,’ he said. 

Christina merely bowed her head. 

‘ I am Detective Downy. I have a warrant for 
the arrest of Ephraim Shine. I wish to search the 
house. ’ 


244 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


^ Yes,’ said the girl quietly, and stepped from the 
door to make way for him. 

Downy entered and commenced his search at once. 
He examined the whole place minutely, foolishly it 
seemed to Christina, who stood by the door apparently 
impassive but following all his movements with her 
eyes. He was particularly careful in overhauling a 
coat that her father had worn, and having gone 
through the three rooms he walked out and round the 
house. There was no place near where a man might 
hide but in the tank, and that was full of water, as 
he cautiously noted. He faced Christina for a mo- 
ment, as if with the intention of questioning her, but 
changed his mind, wished her ^ Good day,’ and 
moved off. 

Up to six o’clock next day nothing had been heard 
of Shine ; he had disappeared in a most astonishing 
manner. The police of the whole country were alert 
to capture him, and it was thought that escape for him 
was impossible, if only on account of his physical 
peculiarities, which should have made him a marked 
man anywhere in Yictoria or in either of the neigh- 
bouring provinces. Sergeant Monk and several 
troopers were stationed at Waddy, and were kept 
busy hunting in the old mines and all the nooks and 
corners of the district. Harry Hardy joined in the 
hunt throughout Tuesday. He had a feverish desire 
for employment — occupation for his mind which, in 
spite of the efforts he made to dwell upon the villainies 
of Ephraim Shine and the wrong he had done Frank, 


THE GOLD-STEALEKS. 


245 


and the good reasons he had to liate him, would revert 
again and again to Christina; and then a wish, a 
cowardly wish, traitorous to his brother, cruel to his 
mother, and false to himself, stole into his heart, and 
he felt for one burning moment a hope that the 
searcher might escape for her sake, for the sake of 
sweet Chris, whose victory over him he acknowledged 
and nursed in secret with a wealth of feeling that 
amazed him, with a passion he had never dreamed 
himself capable of. He fought this wish furiously, 
as if it had been a tangible thing : grappling with it, 
choking it in his heart, and stirring up in his soul a 
wilder hatred for his enemy. 

Harry saw Chris for a moment on the morning after 
the arrest of Joe Eogers; the change in her startled 
him, his love flamed up, and pity tore at his heart- 
strings. His triumph must mean suffering and shame 
for her. Had he stood alone he would ten thousand 
times rather have borne what misfortune might have 
fallen to his lot than see her shamed and sorrowing. 
It was thoughts like these that rose up to make him 
his brother’s enemy, and they were conquered in sweat 
and agony ; and since his loyalty to his own kin could 
only be maintained at a fever heat, he stood forth as 
the most bitter and implacable foe of Ephraim Shine. 

Coming from Mrs. Hardy’s gate on that night at 
about nine o’clock, Dick Haddon collided with a 
breathless boy running at top speed in the direction of 
the Drovers’ Arms, and the two went down together. 
When Dick had quite recovered he recognised the 


246 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


other, whom he had gripped with vengeful intentions, 
as Billy Peterson. 

‘ Lemme go,’ cried Billy. ^ Quick, can’t yer! 
I’m goin’ fer the troopers.’ 

‘ Who for? ’ asked Dick, hanging to his friend. 

‘Find out.’ 

‘ Oh, right you are; but you won’t go, that’s all.’ 

‘ Well, I’m goin’ to tell ’em that Tinribs is up at 
his house. ’ 

‘ How d’yer know? ’ 

‘ I was sneakin’ round to get a shot at a cat, an’ I 
heard ’em. Lemme go ’r he’ll be gone, you fool.’ 

‘Won’t,’ said Dick, masterfully. ‘You ain’t 
goin’.’ 

‘ Who’ll stop me? ’ 

‘ I will.’ 

‘ ’Tain’t in yer.’ 

A struggle commenced between the boys and rap- 
idly merged into a stand-up fight. When Harry 
Hardy appeared on the scene, attracted by their cries, 
he found the combatants locked in a fierce embrace, 
each clinging desperately to a handful of the other’s 
hair and hammering vigorously at his opponent’s ribs. 
Harry pulled them apart as if they had been terriers. 

‘ Here, here, what’s all this about? ’ he cried. 

‘ Dick stopped me goin’ fer the troopers, ’ said 
Billy indignantly. 

‘ The troopers? ’ 

‘ Yes, fer Mr. Shine. He’s up in his house. I 
beard him — he was talkin’ to Miss Chris in the dark.’ 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


247 


‘ Stop ! ’ said Harry ; but Billy, who had broken 
away, picked up his heels and ran. 

Harry did not linger, but turned and sped off to- 
wards Shine’s home, leaving Dick cowering against 
the fence. The young man had no defined intention 
— he did not know what he should do if he found 
Shine in the house. His divided interests left his 
mind confused at the crucial moment, but he did not 
relax his speed until he was within a few yards of the 
searcher’s door. Then, to his astonishment, he found 
lights burning in the house, and Christina confronted 
him in the doorway as he was about to enter. He 
drew back a step and his eyes sought the ground. 
He stood panting and speechless. 

‘ What do you want, Harry? ’ she asked. 

Had she been bitter or angry it might have been 
easier for him, but her voice was low and kindly, and 
he was abashed. He was compelled to force himself 
to his purpose, as he might have pushed a backing 
horse at a stiff fence. 

‘ I want your father. He is here.’ His voice was 
harsh and strained. 

^ My father is not in here.’ 

s.’ 



She barred the 


way, tall and calm and strong. 

‘ Ho right? Ho right to take the man who has 
gaoled my brother — who woiild have murdered me? ’ 
His blood had mounted to his head ; he had put aside 
his love as something that tempted him to evil, put it 


248 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


aside by an almost heroic effort of renunciation. ‘ I 
will have him, ’ he cried ; ^ the would-be murderer, the 
thief. ’ 

‘No,’ said Christina firmly facing him. 

‘ Then he’s here — he is here? ’ 

‘No.’ 

‘ You lie thinking to save him, but the troopers are 
coming.’ He pointed back into the night. From 
where he stood the back door was visible, and he 
watched it intently. 

‘ The troopers are the officers of the law. I can- 
not deny them, you I can. Harry, you are fierce 
and cruel — fierce and unforgiving.’ The reproach 
was not spoken fretfully ; it was quite dispassionate, 
but it struck him like a blow and he bent before it, 
conscious of its injustice but not daring to deny it. 
They remained so in silence for a few minutes, and 
then heard the rush of the troopers’ horses coming up 
the grass-grown back road at a gallop. 

‘ They’re coming,’ said Harry in a low voice. 

Christina neither stirred nor spoke, and Monk 
at the head of four horsemen swept up to the 
house. 

‘ To the front, Donovan and Keel,’ cried Monk. 
‘ He may make for cover in those quarries if he bolts. 
Casey, stay here. Managan, follow me.’ 

He dropped from his horse and led the animal to 
Harry, to whom he threw the rein. Christina did 
not attempt to bar his passage, and he and Mana- 
gan passed into the house. Chris stood by the door 




CRUSHED BY HER MISERY INTO AN ATTITUDE OF PROFOUND DESPAIR 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


249 


jamb, facing Harry, erect and pale; Harry leant 
against the big galvanised-iron tank, absently fondling 
the head of the trooper’s horse. Suddenly, a mo- 
ment after the troopers had entered the house, he 
heard right at his elbow the sound of something strik- 
ing upon the iron of the tank inside. He started 
forward with a low cry, and his eyes flew to the face 
of the girl. She, too, had heard the sound, and their 
eyes met. The terror in hers told him that he had 
discovered the truth. 

‘He’s there,’ he whispered. 

Christina staggered back, supporting herself against 
the wall, and fell into a seat under the window, the 
light from which streamed upon her fair hair and il- 
lumined her as she sat, crushed by her misery into an 
attitude of profound despair, her head bowed upon 
her breast, her clasped hands thrust out rigidly be- 
yond her knees. 

Harry stood silent and motionless, his eyes flxed 
upon the grief-stricken flgure of the girl, his brain in 
a tumult. His heart was driving him to forget every- 
thing but that he loved her, to take her in his arms 
and swear to shield her and cherish her, come what 
might. At this moment Sergeant Monk came from 
the house. 

‘ Hot a sign of him,’ he said. ‘ Did you see any- 
thing of him. Hardy? ’ 

‘ Hot a glimpse, ’ answered Harry mechanically. 

‘ Did you go inside? ’ 

‘ Ho; Miss Shine refused admittance.’ 


250 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


‘ Why are you here, miss? ’ asked Monk, turning 
sharply to Christina. 

‘ I am here because it is my home, ’ she answered 
unsteadily. 

‘ But don’t you live with the Summers family? ’ 

‘ People may not care to shelter the daughter of — 
of one suspected of robbery and almost murder.’ 
The girl’s head sank lower still and a convulsive sob 
shook her frame ; but she controlled herself with a 
brave effort of will and sat immovable. 

Monk’s horse was nosing in the bucket under the 
tap of the tank, and Harry stooped and turned the 
tap. The water ran swiftly, filling the bucket in a 
few seconds. While the horse drank the sergeant 
gave whispered orders to Casey ; and Christina, with 
steadfast eyes and locked fingers, sat waiting for 
Harry to speak the dreaded words, wondering at his 
silence. Monk moved round the house, peering into 
all the corners, and came to the tank again. It stood 
on a small platform raised on four uprights, and all 
was open underneath. The sergeant examined it. 
He climbed to the top, removed the lid and, striking 
a light, looked in. The tank was full of water. 

^ I am going to hunt over the quarries, ’ said the 
trooper in a low voice, as he mounted. ‘ Donovan 
and Keel are taking a run in the paddock, Casey will 
try the houses about here. You might keep your 
eyes open, Hardy. Perhaps that boy was mistaken, 
but we mustn’t miss a chance.’ 

Harry nodded, scarcely comprehending what the 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


251 


man said, and Monk rode off leaving the two alone. 
For a minute or more they continued in the same 
position ; then Harry stole to Chris, and kneeling in 
the shadow by her side took her hand firmly in his. 

‘ He is there,’ he whispered. 

‘ What are you going to do? ’ she added in a strange 
voice. 

^ Why don’t you get him away? ’ 

‘ Away? ’ she murmured vaguely. 

‘ Yes, yes; I will help you.’ His left arm clasped 
her closely, and his breath was on her cheek. 

She turned her face towards him, and there was a 
new hope in it, another spirit in her glorious eyes. 

‘ You are not going to give him up.’ 

‘ I can’t — I can’t do it ! ’ 

‘ Thank God ! ’ she murmured, and there was some- 
thing more than relief for her father’s sake in her 
tone. He had made a revelation that filled her with 
a passion of joy which for a moment drove out the 
fears and anxieties that had possessed her heart. 

‘ I love you — I love you, dear, ’ he continued in a 
voice ardent, caressing; ‘an’ I can’t bear to see you 
suffer. ’ 

She let her face sink to his and kissed him on the 
mouth, and he clasped her to his breast and held her, 
repeating again and again expressions of his devotion 
that love made eloquent. Her pale face turned to 
him seemed luminous with the ecstacy of the moment. 
For a brief sweet minute she abandoned herself to 
that ecstacy and forgot everything beside. 


252 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


‘ I have always loved you, my darling ! my 
darling ! ’ she whispered — ^ always. That night at 
the gate I thought you cared and I was happy, but 
afterwards I was afraid. I thought you might hate 
me for his sake, and I was wretched.’ 

‘ I did try to, Chris — I tried to hate you. I was a 
fool. I couldn’t do anything but love in spite of 
myself, an’ now I’ll help you, dear.’ 

‘ No, no, no, Harry ; no — you must not ! ’ She 
put him from her with her strong arms. ‘ It is 
wrong. I cannot let you. It is right that I should 
fight for him — he is my father. He has been a good 
father to me, and I have loved him and believed in 
him. It is my duty to fight for him, but you must 
not, my dear love. In you it would be a wrong, a 
crime. ’ 

‘ He is your father — I love you ! ’ 

‘Yes, yes, and oh, I am glad you love me; but 
you must leave me to do what I can alone. It is not 
your duty to help him. Think of your mother, your 
brother, your own honour.’ 

‘We can save Frank now without this.’ 

‘ You cannot be sure of that, Harry — ^you only 
hope so.’ 

‘ Am I to tell the troopers, then? ’ 

‘ No, no — oh, no ; I am not brave enough to say 
that ! I cannot bear to think of you as his hunter, 
his bitterest foe. ’Twas that thought made my 
shame and my sorrow so terrible a burden ; but I can 
carry it better now.’ 


THE GOLD-STEALEKS. 


253 


^ My poor girl ! my poor girl ! ’ 

He bent his lips to the white hand upon his shoul- 
der and kissed it tenderly. 

‘ God bless you, Harry ! ’ she faltered, tears spring- 
ing to her eyes. ^ I know how generous you are. 
As a boy you had a big brave heart, and I admired 
you and loved you for it ; but I can take no sacrifice 
that might bring more sorrow upon your mother, that 
might wrong your brother and bring shame to you.’ 

‘ But Frank’s innocence will be known. Dickie 
Haddon heard them as good as admit it. ’ 

‘Yes, I know the story. I made Mrs. Haddon tell 
me all, and I know that they left you to drown ; and 
now for my sake you would save him, run the risk of 
being discovered assisting him to escape from justice 
— and the risk is great, dear. Think what it would 
mean if that became known, how it would blacken 
poor Frank’s case. People would say they had all 
been in league to rob the mine ; you would be de- 
spised, your mother’s heart would break. Harry, 
that must not be. The shame is mine now; you and 
yours have borne enough. I cannot drag you into it 
again. I cannot have your precious love for me made 
a source of danger and dishonour to you. Ho, no; 
I love you too well for that — much too well for that, 
dear.’ 

She spoke in little more than a whisper, but there 
was the intensity of deep feeling in every word. 

He drew her to her feet and into his arms again 
with tender reverence, and softly kissed her tired eye- 


254 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


lids. She was only a girl, and the strife of the last 
two days had told upon her strength. It was sweet 
to rest so, knowing and feeling his strength, confident 
of his devotion. 

‘ But I love you — I love you, Chris,’ he said. 

^Yes, you love me and I love you.’ Her hand 
stole to his neck. ‘ Ah, how happy we might have 
been ! ’ 

‘ Might have been ? We must be happy — we must ! ’ 
he said vehemently. ‘ I love you, an’ your sorrow is 
mine, your trouble is mine. I won’t let anything 
interfere. I must help you ! ’ 

‘ Ho, Harry, I will not take your help. You do 
not stand alone. Before I would have you do that I 
would tell the truth myself. My father is ill ; he may 
never get away. I think he will not. What would be 
left to me if he were taken after all, and you were 
known to have assisted him in his endeavours to elude 
the police? I could not bear it. Ho, no, dear, you 
must leave us alone to that. Promise.’ 

They were standing in the darkness by the wall. 
He drew her more closely to him and his only answer 
was a kiss. 

‘ If he does escape,’ she said, ^ I will go into court 
and tell what I know, if it will help your brother. 
Perhaps I ought to tell the truth now in justice and 
honour, but I cannot desert my father. There is 
something here will not let me do that.’ She pressed 
a hand to her bosom. 

‘ Ho, you can’t do that. I’m sorry for you, Chris. 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


255 


It’s a hard fight. I want to fight with you. By 
Heaven! you don’t know how I could fight for you.’ 

Her head had fallen upon his breast again ; he felt 
her sob, and broke into vehement speech — passionate 
assurances of love half spoken, ejaculations, fierce 
endearments, tender words — then was as suddenly 
silent again, and stood over her with his lips amongst 
her hair until her mood passed. 

‘I will come to-night,’ he whispered, when at 
length she ceased weeping. 

‘No,’ she said, and she was strong again. ‘In 
asking you to be silent I make you false to your peo- 
ple. I do ask that, but no more. Harry, you must 
not come again. Promise me you will not.’ 

‘ You’ll come to me — we’ll see each other? ’ 

‘ No, dear. Better not, till this terrible business is 
over.’ 

‘ Chris, I can’t part like that.’ 

‘ You must, you must. Would you make it harder 
for me? Would you give me a new burden of shame 
and grief? ’ 

‘ I’d die for you! There’s nothing I wouldn’t do 
for you ! ’ 

‘ Then do this, my true love. Promise me you 
will not come here again.’ 

‘ Will it be for long? ’ 

‘ No, it cannot be for long. Promise me. Prom- 
ise me. Promise ! ’ 

‘ You know if he’s taken an’ tried I will have to 
give evidence against him,’ 


256 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


^ I do,’ she answered, shuddering. 

‘ An’ that’ll make no difference to our love? ’ 

^ I will always love you, Harry.’ 

‘ This trouble’s making a great change in you, 
Chris,’ he said yearningly. ^ You’re pale and ill. 
It’ll wear you out.’ 

She felt herself weakening again, but summoned 
all her resolution and stood true to her purpose. 

‘ I can bear it,’ she said. ‘ I must ! Promise me. 
Harry, the troopers are coming — your promise ! ’ 

‘ I promise.’ He held her a moment caught to his 
heart, they exchanged a long kiss, and she slipped 
from him and into the house. 


CHAPTEE XXI. 


A MINUTE later, when Casey rode up out of the 
darkness, Harry was sitting alone by the window. 

^ You’ve seen nothing? ’ he said. 

‘ Divil a see,’ replied the trooper. ‘ It’s sartin to 
me he ain’t within fifty moiles av us this blessed 
minute. ’ 

^ It doesn’t seem likely he’d hang round here, 
does it? ’ 

‘ The man ud be twin idyits what ud do it, knowin’ 
we’d be sartin sure to nab him, Misther Hardy.’ 

Harry was not disposed to smile, indeed he scarcely 
heeded Casey’s words ; he thought he detected a faint 
sound of weeping within the house, and his heart was 
filled with a passionate longing to stand by his dear 
love in defiance of everything. Casey, looking down 
upon him, noted the convulsive movements of his 
clenched hands, and said with a laugh : 

^ Sure, ’twould be sorrer an’ tormint fer that same 
Shine if you laid thim hands on him now, me boy.’ 

Harry started to his feet and commenced to fondle 
the trooper’s horse, fearing to follow the train of 
thought that had possessed him lest he should betray 
himself. Shortly after Sergeant Monk returned. 

257 


258 


THE GOLD-STEALEKS. 


^ No go,’ he said. ‘Anything turned up here, 
Casey? ’ 

‘ Niver a shmell av anythin’, sor,’ answered the 
trooper. 

‘ Well, we can raise this siege. Hardy. That boy 
was mistaken, sure enough.’ 

‘If he wasn’t having a game with us,’ answered 
Harry. 

‘ Um, yes ; that’s likely enough among these young 
heathens of Waddy. But Downy will be here again 
in the morning; we’ll see what he makes of it.’ 

Harry followed the police as they rode away, and 
returned slowly to his home. His anxiety for Chris’s 
sake, and his profound sympathy for her, did not 
serve to quell the wild elation dancing in his veins, 
the triumphal spirit awakened by the knowledge of 
her love and fired by her kisses. 

Chris, sitting alone in the house, her face buried in 
her hands, felt, too, something of this exultation; 
but she nerved herself to look into the future, and 
saw it grim and starless. She saw herself the daughter 
of the convicted thief, the thief who had only nar- 
rowly escaped having to stand his trial for murdering 
her lover ; the thief who had shifted the burden of his 
guilt on to the shoulders of an innocent man, the 
brother of her love. Could she ever consent to be 
Harry’s wife after that? she asked herself with sud- 
den terror. Then she shut out the thought, and her 
heart sang : ‘ He loves me ! He loves me ! ’ and there 
was joy in that no danger could destroy. 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


259 


Detective Downy was in Waddy again on the follow- 
ing morning, his trip to Yarraman having been taken 
with the idea of interviewing Joe Rogers in prison 
and endeavouring to worm out of him some intelligence 
that might assist in the discovery of Ephraim Shine. 
But Rogers either knew nothing or could not be per- 
suaded to tell what he knew, so the effort was fruit- 
less. 

After hearing the story of the previous night. 
Downy sent for Billy Peterson and questioned him 
closely; but the boy insisted that he had told the 
truth, and was quite positive it was the searcher’s 
voice he heard. The detective was puzzled. 

^ You made a close hunt about the house? ’ he said 
to Sergeant Monk. 

‘ In every nook and corner. ’ 

‘ Yet there must be something in this boy’s yarn. 
Shine is certainly in hiding somewhere near here. If 
he had made a run for it he must have been seen, and 
we should have heard of him before this. There 
might be a dozen holes in those quarries into which a 
man could creep. We must go over them. Don’t 
leave a foot’s space unsearched.’ 

The troopers spent several hours in the quarries, 
moving every stone that might hide the entrance to a 
small cave, and leaving no room for a suspicion that 
Shine could be lying in concealment there. For a 
time Dick, who, in consideration of the seriousness 
of recent events with which he had been directly con- 
cerned, was enjoying a week’s holiday, superintended 


260 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


the hunt from the banks ; but he wearied of the work 
at length, and crossed the paddocks to join the men 
busy in the new shaft. Harry Hardy, McKnight, 
Peterson, and Doon were sinking to cut the dyke dis- 
covered by the Mount of Gold Quartz-mining Com- 
pany. The mine had been christened the Native 
Youth; Dick, as the holder of a third interest, felt 
himself to be a person of some consequence about the 
claim, and discussed its prospects with the elder 
miners like a person of vast experience and consider- 
able expert knowledge, using technical phrases liber- 
ally, and not forgetting to drop a word of advice here 
and there. It might have been thought presumptuous 
in the small boy, but was nothing of the kind in the 
prospector and discoverer of the lode. 

The big shareholder did not disdain even to assist 
in the work, and it was a proud and happy youth, 
clay-smirched and wearing ^ bo-yangs ’ below his knees 
like a full-blown working miner, who marched through 
the bush with the other owners of the Native Youth 
at crib-time. Being their own bosses the men of the 
new mine went home to dinner, and dined at their 
leisure like the aristocrats they expected to be. 

Prouder still was Dick when he discovered brown- 
haired, dark-eyed little Kitty Grey loitering amongst 
the trees, regarding him with evident admiration and 
awe. He felt at that moment that he needed only 
a black pipe to make his triumph complete, and had a 
momentary resentment against the absurd prejudice 
that denied a boy of his years the right to smoke in 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


261 


public. Kitty had scarcely dared to lift her eyes to her 
hero for some time past : the wonderful stories told of 
him seemed to exalt him to such an altitude that she 
could hope for nothing better than to worship meekly 
at a great distance. She was braver now, she actu- 
ally approached him and spoke to him, yet timidly 
enough to have softened a heart of adamant ; but Dick, 
stung by a laughing comment from McKnight, would 
have passed her by with an exaggerated indifference 
intended to convey an idea of his sublime superiority 
to little girls, no matter how large and dark and ap- 
pealing their eyes might be. Then she actually seized 
his hand. 

‘Don’t go, Dickie,’ she said, ‘I want to speak to 
you. Miss Christina sent me.’ 

Kitty was a member of Christina Shine’s class at 
the chapel, and was one of half a dozen to whom Miss 
Chris represented all that was beautiful and most to be 
desired in an angel. The mention of Christina’s name 
served to divest Dick of all pretentiousness. 

‘ What is it, Kitty? ’ he asked eagerly. 

‘ She wants you. She says you’re her friend, an’ 
you’ll go to her.’ Kitty spoke in a whisper, although 
the men were now well beyond earshot. 

‘Yes,’ said Dick ; ‘I’ll go now.’ 

‘Ko, not now,’ said Kitty clinging to his sleeve. 
‘ She says have your dinner an’ then go. An’ oh, 
Dickie, she’s been crying, an’ she’s all white, an’ — 

an’ ’ At this the little messenger began to cry 

too. 


262 


THE GOLD-STEALEKS. 


‘ Is she ? ’ said Dick, sadly. ‘ When my mine 
turns out rich I’m goin’ to give her a fortune.’ 

‘ Oh, are you, Dickie? ’ said Kitty, beaming through 
her tears. 

‘Yes,’ answered he gravely; ‘and then she’ll 
marry Harry Hardy an’ be happy ever after. ’ 

‘My, that will be nice,’ murmured Kitty, much 
comforted. 

‘You ain’t a bad little girl.’ He felt called upon 
to reward her. ‘ You can walk as far as the fence 
with me if you like. ’ 

Kitty was properly grateful, and they walked to- 
gether to the furze- covered fence. 

‘ Please don’t tell anyone you’re going to see her, 
Miss Christina says,’ whispered Kitty, at parting. 

‘Eight y’are,’ Dick said, delighted with the mys- 
tery. ‘ I say, Kitty, I think p’raps I’ll give you a 
fortune too.’ 

‘Oh, Dickie, no; not a whole fortune, I’m too 
little,’ cried Kitty, overwhelmed. 

‘Yes, a whole fortune,’ he persisted grandly ; ‘ an’ 
maybe I’ll marry you.’ 

‘Will you, Dickie, will you? Oh, that is 
kind! ’ 

‘Here.’ He had turned over the treasures in his 
pocket and found a scrap of gilt filagree off a gor- 
geous valentine. ‘ Here’s somethin’.’ 

Kitty thought the gift very beautiful, and accepted 
it thankfully for its own sake and the sake of the 
giver, as an earnest of the fortune to come ; and went 


THE GOLD-STEALEKS. 


263 


her way happy but duly impressed with a sense of the 
responsibilities those riches must impose. 

Harry Hardy had loitered behind his mates on the 
flat, and when the boy caught up to him again he 
turned to him with nervous anxiety. 

‘What did that girl want with you, Dick?’ he 
asked. I heard her mention Miss Shine’s name.’ 

He noted the set, stubborn look with which he was 
now familiar fall upon the boy’s face like a mask, and 
he questioned no more on that point. 

‘ Dick,’ he said earnestly, ‘ you’ll help her if you 
can. She’s all alone, you know; not a soul to stand 
by her, not a soul. You might get a chance some- 
times to make things easier for her. Would you? ’ 

‘ My word ! ’ said Dick simply. 

Harry wrung his hand, and Dick, looking into his 
face, was puzzled by its expression ; he looked, Dick 
thought, as he did on that Sunday morning when he 
wished to flog the superintendent before the whole 
congregation. 

‘ You’re a brick — a perfect brick! ’ said Harry. 

‘I’d do anythin’ fer her,’ Dick replied. 

‘ Thanks, old man. I’ll never forget it.’ 

It did not surprise the boy that Harry should thank 
him for services to be rendered to Miss Chris; he 
thought he understood the situation perfectly, and it 
was all very sad and perfectly consistent with his ro- 
mantic ideas of such matters. 

‘Look here, Dick,’ said Harry, before parting, ‘I 
owe you an awful lot, my life, p’raps; but for every 


264 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


little thing you do for her I’ll owe you a thousand 
times more — a thousand thousand times more. ’ 

Dick’s wise sympathetic eyes looked into his, and 
the boy nodded gravely. 

‘ You can swear I’ll stick up fer her,’ he said. 

Dick, whilst feeling quite a profound sorrow for 
Christina Shine, derived no little satisfaction from the 
position in which he found himself as the champion 
of oppressed virtue and the leal friend of a devoted 
young couple, the course of whose true love was run- 
ning in devious ways. This was a role he had fre- 
quently played in fancy; but it was ever so much 
more gratifying in serious fact, and he took it up with 
romantic earnestness, a youthful Don Quixote, heroic 
in the service of his Dulcinea. 

At dinner he favoured his mother with the latest 
news from the mine and glowing opinions on its pros- 
pects; and Mrs. Haddon, more than ever suggestive 
of roses and apples, beamed across the table upon her 
wonderful son, perfectly happy in the belief that 
Frank Hardy would presently be released, that their 
fortunes were practically made, and that she was the 
mother of the most astonishing, the cleverest, the 
bravest, and the handsomest lad that had ever lived. 
Dick’s claims to beauty were perhaps a little dubious, 
but it must be admitted that local opinion, as ex- 
pressed in local gossip a thousand times a day, went 
far to justify Mrs. Haddon’ s judgment on all the 
above points. 

Dick escaped immediately after dinner, and went 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


265 


straight to Shine’s house. Fortunately the troopers, 
in response to information received, were searching a 
worked- out alluvial flat about a mile off, and Downy 
was pursuing a delusive clue as far as Cow Flat, so 
his visit excited no particular attention. 

The appearance Chris presented when she admitted 
him shocked the boy, and stirred his heart with ten- 
derest pity. Her eyes were deep -set in dark shadows, 
her cheeks sunken, and there was a peculiar drawn 
expression about her mouth. She who had always 
been a miracle of neatness was negligently dressed, 
and her beautiful hair hung in pathetic disorder. 
She seated herself and drew Dick to her side. 

‘ Dick, ’ she said, ‘ I am in great trouble. ’ 

‘ Yes,’ he answered, ‘ I know — I’m sorry.’ 

‘ And you are my only friend. ’ 

‘ No fear, Harry Hardy’ d do anythin’ for 
you.’ 

‘ He cannot, Dick ; it is impossible. He is gen- 
erous and noble, but he cannot help me. Dick,’ she 
drew him closer to her side, and held his hand in hers, 

^ tell me why you would not speak about the gold- 
stealers and that crime below. Was it because of me 
— because you wanted to spare me? ’ 

^ Yes,’ he whispered. 

‘ God bless you ! God bless you, Dickie ! ’ she said 
catching him to her heart and kissing his cheek. ^ I 
guessed it. I do not know if it was right, but it was 
brave and true, and I love you for it.’ 

‘ Don’t cry,’ Dick said consolingly; ‘ it’ll all come 


266 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


out happy — it always does you know. ’ This was the 
philosophy of the Waddy Library, and Dick had the 
most perfect faith in its teachings. 

‘ Thank you, dear. I am going to ask you to do 
something more for me. I am afraid this is not right 
either. I know it is not right, but we cannot always 
do what is right — our hearts won’t let us sometimes. 
Will you help me? ’ 

‘Yes,’ he said valiantly, and would have liked 
nothing better at that moment than to have been 
called upon to face a fire-breathing dragon on her be- 
half. 

‘ I want you to go to Yarraman and buy these things 
for me.’ 

She gave him money and a list of articles with the 
help of which she hoped to elffect a disguise for her 
father that would enable him to leave the district. It 
was a very prosaic service, Dick thought, but he un- 
dertook it cheerfully. 

‘ I want you to tell no one what you are going for. 
Catch the three-o’clock coach near the Bo Peep, and 
answer no questions.’ 

‘ I know a better way’n that,’ said the boy, after a 
thoughtful pause. ‘ Mother wants some things from 
Yarraman. I’ll get her to let me go fer ’em this 
afternoon.’ 

‘ Yes, yes; that is clever. But you won’t tell.’ 

‘ Not a blessed soul. ’ 

‘ And when you get back it will be late — bring the 
things to me as secretly as you can. The troopers 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


267 


would be suspicious if they saw you — be careful of 
them. ’ 

Dick had no doubt of his ability to deceive the whole 
police force of the province, and undertook the mission 
without a misgiving, his only regret being that it was 
making no great demands upon his courage and in- 
genuity. 

‘ Dickie,’ said Chris, kissing him again at parting, 

‘ I hope some day, when you are older, it will be a 
great happiness to you to think you helped a poor 
heartbroken girl in a time of terrible trouble.’ 

The boy would have liked to have framed a fine 
speech in answer to that, but he could only say softly 
and earnestly : 

‘ I’m fearful glad now, s’elp me! ’ 

Mrs. Haddon was easily deceived, and Dick caught 
the three-o’clock coach. The Waddy coach took two 
hours to do the journey to Yarraman and did not start 
back till after eight, but this was not the first time the 
boy had made the journey alone, and his mother had 
no misgivings. 

Downy returned to the Drovers’ Arms late in the 
evening, having discovered that his supposed clue led 
only to a half-demented sundowner living in a hollow 
log near Cow Flat, and having nothing whatever in 
common with the missing man. The search of the 
troopers had been fruitless, too, and at this crisis the 
opinion of McKnight as a pioneer of Waddy was so- 
licited. McKnight’s belief was that Shine was hiding 
away somewhere in the old workings of one of the 


268 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


deep mines — the Silver Stream perhaps — and he recalled 
the case of a criminal who got into the old stopes of a 
mine at Bendigo, and subsisted there for two 
weeks on the cribs of the miners, stolen while the 
latter were at work. The detective considered this a 
very probable supposition, and an invasion of the 
Silver Stream workings was planned for next morning. 


CHAPTER XXII. 


Shortly after eight o’clock on the night of Dick’s 
journey to Yarraman the figure of a woman ap- 
proached the searcher’s house and knocked softly at 
the front door. There was a light burning within, 
but the knock provoked no response. The visitor 
knocked again with more vigour ; presently a bolt was 
withdrawn and the door opened a few inches, and 
Christina Shine, seeing her visitor, uttered a low cry 
and staggered back into the centre of the room, throw- 
ing the door wide open. It was Mrs. Hardy who 
stood upon the threshold. 

^ May I come in, my dear? ’ she asked in a kindly 
tone. 

Christina, standing with one hand pressed to her 
throat and her burning eyes fixed intently upon the 
face of the elder woman, nodded a slow affirmative. 
Mrs. Hardy entered, closing the door behind her, and 
stood for a moment gazing pitifully at the distracted 
girl, for Chris had a wild hunted look, and weariness 
and anxiety had almost exhausted her. She faced her 
visitor with terror, as if anticipating a blow. 

‘ My poor girl,’ Mrs. Hardy said gently; ‘ I sup- 
pose you wonder why I have come? ’ 


269 


270 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


Again Chris moved her head in vague acquiescence. 

‘ I have heard how heavily this blow has fallen upon 
you, and my heart bled with pity. I felt I might be 
able to comfort you. ’ 

Chris put her back with a weak fluttering hand. 

‘ My dear, I am an old woman ; I have seen much 
trouble and have borne some, and I know that hearts 
break most often in loneliness.’ 

‘You know the truth?’ asked the girl, through 
dry lips. 

‘ I know Richard Haddon’s story.’ 

‘ And you have not come to — to ’ 

‘ I have come to ofler you all a woman’s sympathy, 
my girl ; to try to help you to be strong. ’ 

Mrs. Hardy took the weary girl in her arms and 
kissed her pale cheek. 

‘ You are good ! You are very good ! ’ murmured 
Chris brokenly, clinging to her. But she suddenly 
thrust herself back from the sheltering arms and ut- 
tered a cry of despair. 

The door communicating with the next room had 
been opened and a grim flgure crept into the kitchen, 
the figure of Ephraim Shine. The man was clad only 
in a tattered shirt and old moleskins ; his face was as 
gaunt as that of death, and his skin a ghastly yellow. 
He moved into the room on his hands and knees, 
seeking something, and chummered insanely as he 
scratched at the hard flooring-boards with his claw-like 
fingers, and peered eagerly into the cracks. He moved 
about the room in this way, searching in the corners, 



SCRATCHED AT THE HARD FLOORING-BOARDS WITH HIS CLAVV-LIKE FINGERS 



THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


271 


dragging his way about with his face close to the 
floor. 

^ I’ll find it. I’ll find it,’ he muttered; ‘oh! I’ll 
find it. Eogers is cunnin’, but I’m more cunnin’. 
I know where it’s hid, an’ when I get it it’ll be mine 
— all mine ! ’ 

Mrs. Hardy stole close to the girl, and they clasped 
hands. 

‘ Is he mad? ’ asked the elder woman hoarsely. 

‘ He has taken a fever, I think,’ answered the girl, 

‘ and I can hide him no longer. I cannot help him 
now.’ She sank back upon a chair and followed 
her father’s movements with tearless, hopeless 
eyes. 

‘ Eogers is a liar ! ’ muttered Shine. ‘ A liar he is, 
an’ he’d rob me; but I’ll beat him. It’s hid down 
here, down among the rocks. The gold is mine, mine, 
mine ! ’ His voice rose to a thin scream and he beat 
fiercely upon the boards with his bony hand. 

‘ He has been ill ever since Eogers was taken, but 
he only took this turn this evening. Oh! I tried 
hard to help him ; I tried hard ! He is my father. 
Oh, my poor father ! my poor, poor father ! ’ 

‘ Hush, hush, dear,’ said Mrs. Hardy. ‘ We must 
help him on to his bed. Come ! ’ 

Each took an arm of the sick man and raised him to 
his feet. He offered no resistance, but allowed them 
to lead him to the bunk in the other room and place 
him upon it, although he continued to utter wild 
threats against Joe Eogers and to chummer about the 


272 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


gold, and move his hands about, scratching amongst 
the bedclothes. 

Mrs. Hardy brought the light from the kitchen, and 
busied herself over the delirious man, making him as 
comfortable as possible upon his narrow bed. She 
gave directions to Chris and the girl obeyed them, 
bringing necessary things and making a fire in the 
kitchen. She seemed inspired with a new hope, and 
presently she moved to Mrs. Hardy’s side again. 

^ Do you think he will die? ’ she asked. 

^ I do not think so, dear. It is brain fever, I be- 
lieve.’ 

‘ How good you are — you whom he has wronged so 
cruelly ! ’ 

She ceased speaking and gripped her companion’s 
arm. The latch of the back door clicked, a step 
sounded upon the kitchen fioor, and the next moment 
Detective Downy appeared within the room. He 
glanced from the women to the bunk, and then strode 
forward and laid a hand upon Ephraim Shine. 

‘ This man is my prisoner, ’ he said. 

Shine sat up again, moving his arms and mutter- 
ing: 

^ Yes, yes, down the old mine; that’s it! Let me 
go. It’s hid in the old mine — my gold, my beautiful 
gold!’ 

^You cannot take him in this state,’ said Mrs. 
Hardy; ^ it would be brutal.’ 

The detective examined him closely, and, being sat- 
isfied that the man was really ill and unlikely to escape, 


THE GOLD-STEALEKS. 


273 


went to the kitchen door and blew a shrill blast of his 
whistle in the direction of the quarries. "When he 
returned Chistina was on her knees by the bunk, as if 
praying, and Mrs. Hardy was bathing the patient’s 
temples. After a few minutes Sergeant Monk rode 
up and joined them in the room. 

‘Here is our man,’ said Downy quietly. Send 
Donovan for the covered-in waggon at the hotel. We 
will have to take him on a mattress. ’ 

‘ Shot? ’ cried Monk. 

‘ Ho ; off his head. Send a couple of your men 
in here. I think I’ll get my hands on that gold 
presently. ’ 

The sergeant withdrew, and Downy touched Chris 
on the shoulder. 

‘ It’s a bad business, miss,’ he said. ‘ You made a 
plucky fight, but this was inevitable. Will you tell 
me where he was hidden ? ’ 

Chris arose and stood with her back to the wall and 
answered him in a firm voice. She understood the 
futility of further evasion. 

‘He hid in the tank,’ she said. ‘ It has a false 
bottom, and you get in from below.’ 

The detective expressed incredulity in a long 
breath. 

‘ Well, that fairly beats me,’ he said. ‘ When did 
he fix the tank? ’ 

‘ I do not know. I had no idea it was done until the 
night of the arrest of Rogers. ’ 

At this moment Casey and Keel entered. 


374 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


‘Stand by the man, Casey,’ said the detective. 
‘ Keel, follow me. ’ 

Downy went straight to the tank and, creeping 
under it, struck a match and examined the floor above 
on which it rested. Two of tlie boards had been 
moved aside, and in the bottom of the tank there was 
an opening about eighteen inches in diameter with a 
sheet of iron to cover it, in such a way as to deceive 
any but the most careful seeker. The detective or- 
dered Keel to bring a candle, and when it was forth- 
coming he drew himself up into the tank and struck a 
light. An ejaculation of delight broke from his lips, 
for there at his hand lay a skin bag covered with red- 
and- white hair, and by its side shone a magnificent 
nugget shaped like a man’s boot. This the detective 
recognised as the nugget described by Dick Haddon. 
There were also a pickle bottle containing much rough 
gold, and two or three small parcels. 

The compartment in Tvhich Downy sat was just high 
enough to allow of a man sitting upright in it, and large 
enough to enable him to lie in a crescent position with- 
out discomfort. A pipe from the roof was connected 
with the tap, so that water could be drawn from the 
tank as usual. The job had been carefully done, and 
had evidently cost Shine much labour. The searcher had 
designed the compartment as a hiding-place for his 
treasure, the quantity of which convinced Downy that 
his depredations at the mine (in conjunction with 
Kogers, probably) had been of long standing. The parcels 
contained sovereigns and there were small bags of silver 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


275 


and copper — a miser’s hoard. The detective dropped 
the bag, the nugget, and all the other articles of value 
out of the tank, and with the assistance of Keel 
carried them into the kitchen. He examined the 
material in the hide bag, and found it to be wash dirt 
showing coarse gold freely. The nugget was a mag- 
nificent one, containing, as the detective guessed, about 
five hundred ounces of gold, and worth probably close 
upon two thousand pounds. Nothing nearly so fine 
had ever before been discovered in the Silver 
Stream gutters, although they had always been rich in 
nuggets. 

When Mrs. Hardy returned home an hour later, 
Harry had just come in from work. The sharehold- 
ers in the Native Youth were so anxious to cut the 
stone that they were putting in long shifts. There 
were traces of tears about Mrs. Hardy’s eyes, and her 
expression of deep sorrow alarmed her son. 

‘Why, what’s wrong, mother? ’ he asked quickly. 

‘ Have you had bad news? ’ 

‘ No, Henry. I have been with Christina Shine. 
‘You. You, mother?’ he cried, in surprise. 

‘ Not ’ He suddenly recollected himself and was 

silent. He knew his mother to be incapable of a 
cruel or vindictive action. 

‘ Mrs. Haddon told me how the poor girl was suf- 
fering for her father’s villainy, and I was deeply sorry 
for her. I thought that under the circumstances my 
sympathy might strengthen her. ’ 

‘ God bless you for that, mother ! ’ said Harry fer- 


276 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


vently, and his mother looked at him sharply, surprised 
by his tone. 

^ Shine has been arrested,’ she said. ‘ The police 
have taken him in to Yarraman.’ 

‘ Taken — Shine taken ! ’ 

‘ He was captured while I was there.’ Mrs. Hardy 
told her son the story of Shine’s arrest, and Harry 
sat with set teeth and eyes intent for some minutes 
after she had finished. 

‘My boy,’ his mother said, placing a hand 
upon his shoulder, ‘ this does not seem to please 
you.’ 

His head fell a little, and he opened and clenched 
again the strong hands gripped between his knees. 

‘ And yet, ’ she continued, ‘ it confirms your sus- 
picions. It may mean the assertion of Frank’s inno- 
cence. ’ 

‘ I love her ! ’ he said with some passion. 

His mother was greatly startled, and stood for a 
moment regarding him with an expression of deep 
feeling. 

‘ You love her — his daughter? ’ 

‘ With all my heart, mother.’ 

‘ Since when ? ’ 

‘ I don’t know. Since that Sunday in the chapel, 
I believe.’ 

‘ And she? ’ 

‘ She loves me.’ 

Mrs. Hardy moved to a chair, sat down with her 
face turned from him, and stayed for many minutes 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


m 

apparently lost in thought. She started, hearing 
Harry at the door. 

‘ Where are you going ? ’ she asked. 

‘ To see Chris.’ He answered in a tone hinting 
defiance, as if expecting antagonism ; hut his mother 
said nothing more, and he passed out. 

Harry found Chris sitting alone in her father’s 
house. A candle burned on the table by her side, her 
hands lay idly in her lap. He had expected to find 
her weeping, surrounded by women, but her eyes 
were tearless and the news of Shine’s arrest was not 
yet known in the township. Harry fell on his knees 
by her side and clasped her about the waist. There 
was a sort of dull apathy in her face that awed him. 
He did not kiss her. 

‘ I’ve heard, dear,’ he whispered. ^ All’s over.’ 

^ Yes,’ she said, looking at him for the first time, 
without surprise. 

‘ Why are you sitting here? ’ he asked. 

‘I am waiting for Dickie Haddon, ’ she said listlessly. 
‘ He went to Yarraman to buy some things to make a 
disguise. It is only fair to wait.’ 

He was touched with profound pity ; but her mood 
chilled him, he dared not offer a caress. 

‘ And then ?’ 

‘ And then? Oh, then I will go to the homestead. 
I want rest — only rest, rest ! ’ 

‘ Did Summers know the truth, Chris? ’ 

She shook her head slowly. 

‘No,’ she said. ‘I deceived him — I deceived 


278 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


them all. I lied to everybody. I used to pride my- 
self once, a fortnight ago, when I was a girl, on not 
being a liar. 

‘You mustn’t talk in this despairing way, dear. 
Let me take you home. I will meet Dick an’ tell 
him.’ 

‘ Tell him it is too late, but I am grateful all the 
same — very, very grateful.’ 

‘Yes, yes. Come. You are weary; you’ll be 
stronger to-morrow an’ braver.’ 

He led her away, and they walked across the flat 
and through the paddock in silence. It seemed to 
Harry that she had forgotten their avowals of love. 
Her attitude frightened him, he dreaded lest she 
should be on the eve of a serious illness; he had 
sore misgivings and tortured himself with many 
doubts. Her words rang in his head with damnable 
iteration : ‘ I deceived them all. I lied to every 
body.’ 

Maori welcomed them under the flrs, capering heav- 
ily and putting himself very much in the way, but 
with the best intentions. Summers came to the 
verandah and greeted Chris with warmth. 

‘ Eh, but ye’re pale, lassie,’ he said, having drawn 
her into the light. 

‘Take her in,’ whispered Harry; ‘she’s quite 
worn out.’ 

‘ Will ye no come in yersel’ ? ’ 

‘ No, no, thanks. Come back here, Mr. Summers ; 
I want to speak to you. ’ 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


279 


Summers led the girl into the house and returned 
after a few moments. 

‘ What’s happened tae the girl? She’s not herself 
at all,’ he said. 

‘ Her father’s been taken.’ 

^ Ay, have they got him? Weel, ’twas sure to 
be.’ 

‘ ’Twas she who hid him, but he went light-headed 
with some sickness, an’ the police came down on him. 
She feels it awfully, poor girl, being alone in a way. ’ 

^ Not alone, not while Jock Summers moves an’ 
has his bein’.’ 

Harry had been fishing for this. He knew the 
man, and that his simple word meant as much as if 
it had been chiselled deep in marble. 

^ Good night,’ he said, throwing out an impetuous 
hand. While he hastened away under the trees Sum- 
mers stood upon the door-sill, gazing after him, 
ruefully shaking the tingling fingers of his right 
hand. 

Harry returned to the skillion and loitered about 
for ten minutes without discovering anything of Dick 
Haddon, but at the expiration of that time Dick stole 
out of the darkness and approached him with an affec- 
tation of the greatest unconcern. His greeting was 
very casual, and he followed it with a fishing inquiry 
intended to discover if the young man knew anything 
of Christina’s whereabouts. 

‘ Never mind, Dick, old man,’ said Harry kindly, 
Mt’sallU P.’ 


280 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


^ All up ? ’ cried Dick. 

^Yes, I know why you went to Yarraman; but 
it’s been a wasted journey, Dick. Shine was ar- 
rested a couple of hours ago, an’ she’s broken- 
hearted. ’ 

Dick received the news in silence, and they walked 
homewards together. 

‘ What’ll I do with this ? ’ asked Dick at Hardy’s 
gate, producing a parcel from under his vest. 

‘ Hide it away, an’ keep it dark. Hot a word must 
be said to hurt her.’ 

^Good,’ answered the boy. know a cunnin’ 
holler tree. So long, Harry. ’ 

‘ So long, mate.’ 

Dick liked the word mate ; it touched him nearly 
with its fine hint of equality and community of inter- 
ests ; it seemed to suit their romantic conspiracy, too, 
and sent him away with a little glow of pride in his 
heart. 

When Harry re-entered his own home he found his 
mother seated as he had left her. She arose and ap- 
proached him, placing a hand on either shoulder. 

^ Well, my boy ? ’ 

^ W ell, mother ? ’ 

^ You have seen her ? ’ 

‘ Yes. I’ve taken her to the homestead. She is 
dazed. It seems as if she no longer cared.’ 

‘ It will pass, Henry. ’ 

‘ You think my love will pass ? ’ 

‘ All this seeming great trouble.’ 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


281 


* It’ll pass, mother, if she comes back to me; 
never unless.’ 

‘ The sins of the fathers,’ sighed Mrs. Hardy as he 
turned from her to his own room, like a wounded 
animal seeking darkness. ^ The sins of the fathers.’ 


CHAPTER XXIII. 


Next morning all Waddy knew of the arrest, and 
it was felt that the game was nearly played out. 
Dick’s confession was published in the same issue of 
the Yarraman Mercury^ and public opinion in the 
township had decided against the searcher in spite of 
his long and faithful service as teacher and super- 
intendent. The murder theory was reluctantly 
abandoned. 

Harry Hardy called at the homestead to inquire 
after Chris before going to work, and was told that 
she was much rested but not yet up. At dinner-time 
he heard that she had been driven into Yarraman by 
Jock Summers to be near her father; the fact that 
she had left him without a word or a line seemed to 
confirm his worst suspicion, and again her words, 
deceived them all. I lied to everybody,’ returned 
to mock him. Harry had no quality of patience: he 
was impetuous, a fighter, not a waiter on fortune; 
but here was nothing to fight, and in his desperation 
he did battle on the hard ground. 

They had cut the dyke in the new shaft at a 
shallower depth than Dick’s Mount of Gold drive, 
and here Harry expended those turbulent emotions 

282 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


283 


that welled within him, working furiously. Whether 
handling pick or shovel, toiling at the windlass, or 
ringing the heavy hammer on the drill, he wrought 
with a feverish energy that amazed his mates, who 
ascribed it all to an excusable but rather insane 
anxiety to test the value of their mine in the mill. 
For their part they were very well satisfied with the 
golden prospects, and quite content to ‘ go slow ’ in 
the certain hope of early affluence. 

The next important piece of news the Mercury had 
to offer referred to Ephraim Shine, who had recovered 
consciousness in the gaol hospital but was declared to 
be dying from an old ailment. Steps were to be 
taken to secure his dying deposition. On the Satur- 
day morning came the information that Shine was 
dead, and with this came the full text of his depo- 
sition — a complete confession, setting forth his crimes 
and those of Joe Kogers without reservation, and com- 
pletely exonerating Frank Hardy. Eogers and Shine 
had been working together to rob the mine for two 
years. Their apparent hostility was a blind to deceive 
the people. They had conspired to fix the crime upon 
Frank at Eogers’ suggestion, for the reason that his 
vigilance was making it unsafe for the faceman to con- 
tinue his thefts, and because they hoped his conviction 
would arrest the growing suspicions. Shine agreed, 
for these reasons, and because he cherished a desire to 
marry Mrs. Haddon and found Hardy in the way. 
For a long time the pair had been content with such 
gold as Eogers could hide about his clothes, but his 


284 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


discovery of the big nugget, which he hid in the 
drive, gave them the idea of attempting robbery on 
a large scale, and for weeks Rogers had hidden such 
gold as he could lay his hands on in holes in the 
muddy floor of the workings, to be carried away 
when opportunity offered ma the Red Hand ladder- 
shaft. That was to have been their last venture 
together, and Shine had intended to induce Mrs. 
Haddon to marry him, and then to take her away 
somewhere where he was unknown, and where it 
would have been possible to sell the gold in small 
parcels without exciting suspicion. Rogers had hidden 
the gold in Frank Hardy’s boot, and Shine salted his 
washdirt on the creek with Silver Stream gold, and 
the slug he pretended to take from Frank’s crib bag 
was hidden in the palm of his hand when he took up 
the faceman’s billy from the floor of the searching 
shed. 

Joe Rogers appeared before the bench of magis- 
trates at Yarraman on the following Monday. Harry 
and Dick were in attendance as witnesses ; Chris was 
also present in court, and there Harry saw her for 
the flrst time since the night of Shine’s arrest. 
She sat beside Mrs. Summers, a stout, grey, motherly 
woman, and was dressed in deep mourning. Harry 
thought she had never looked so beautiful. But how 
changed she was from the simple gentle girl of a few 
days back ! She sat as she did when he found her in 
the skillion after her father had been taken, with 
intent eyes bent upon the floor. When called upon 


THE GOLD-STEALEKS. 


285 


to give her evidence she gave it clearly and fully, in 
a firm distinct voice, like a person without interest or 
feeling. She seemed to have no desire to shield the 
character of her father, but told the whole truth 
respecting him, and left the Court with her com- 
panion immediately on being informed that her serv- 
ices were no longer required, so that Harry was 
unable to speak with her. This was a bitter blow to 
him ; he believed that she was taking precautions to 
avoid him, and saw in that action further reason for 
his suspicion that her declaration of affection had 
been a mistake or perhaps a deliberate deception. ‘ I 
deceived them all. I lied to everybody,’ she said. 
The young man stiffened himself with chill comfort- 
less pride, and made no effort to seek her out. He 
loved her, he told himself, but was no whimpering 
fool to abase himself at the feet of a woman who was 
careless, or might be even worse — pitiful. 

Joe Kogers reserved his defence and was commit- 
ted to stand his trial at the forthcoming sessions in 
about a fortnight’s time, charged with gold-stealing, 
wounding Harry Hardy, and shooting at Trooper 
Casey. 

Harry returned to his work. He made no further 
calls at the liomestead to inquire after Christina, but 
heard from Hick that she had not returned to Waddy, 
but was staying in Yarraman till after the trial. Mrs. 
Haddon expressed an opinion that the poor girl felt 
the disgrace of her position keenly, and dreaded to 
face the people of the township where her father had 


286 


THE GOLD-STEALEKS. 


been accepted as a shining light for so many years, and 
where she had always commanded respect and affec- 
tion. 

As the time for the trial approached Harry found 
himself hungering for a sight of her face again. 
Pride and common-sense were no weapons with which 
to fight love. At best they afforded only a poor dis- 
guise behind which a man might hide his sufferings 
from the scoffers. 

The trial occupied two days. The prisoner was de- 
fended by a clever young lawyer from Melbourne, 
who fought every point pertinaciously and strove with 
all his energy and knowledge and cunning to repre- 
sent Joe Rogers as the victim of circumstances and 
Ephraim Shine — especially Ephraim Shine — who was 
a monster of blackened iniquity, capable of a diaboli- 
cal astuteness in the pursuit of his criminal intentions. 
The story of the boy Haddon was absolutely false in 
representing Rogers as having assisted in the theft of 
the gold produced. The boy was a creature of Shine’s ; 
that was obvious on the face of his evidence and the 
evidence of Miss Shine and Detective Downy. Shine 
had had the lad in his toils, otherwise why had he 
taken such precautions to shield the man, and why 
had he given him warning of the approach of the 
troopers? Rogers’ story was entirely credible, he said. 
It was to the effect that Shine had confessed to him 
that he had robbed the mine of a quantity of gold and 
had been robbed in turn by the boy Haddon, who was 
his real accomplice. He solicited the aid of the un- 


THE GOLD-STEALEKS. 


287 


fortunate prisoner to recover the treasure, and offered 
him half the gold as a reward. The prisoner was 
tempted and he fell. His action towards the boy at 
the Piper Mine was taken merely to induce him to 
disclose the whereabouts of the lost booty, and the 
shooting at Trooper Casey was an accident. Rogers 
had acted on blind and unreasoning impulse in snatch- 
ing up the gun on the approach of the police, believ- 
ing his complicity with Shine in the effort to recover 
the hidden loot had come to light, and the discharge 
of the weapon was purely involuntary. 

To give an air of plausibility to this plea it was 
necessary to represent Ephraim Shine in the worst 
possible light, and that conscientious and hard-work- 
ing young lawyer spared no pains on his own part or 
the part of the dead man’s daughter to make every 
point that would tell for his client ; but Chris was not 
more moved than at the preliminary investigation. 
She told the truth simply, and no effort on the part of 
the barrister could shake her evidence or break 
through the unnatural calm in which she appeared to 
have enveloped herself. Harry saw her several times 
during the course of the trial, and found a desolate 
anguish in her white immobile face, that stirred up in 
his heart again a fury against fate, the law, and every 
force and condition that added the smallest pang to 
her sorrow. If he could have only interposed his 
body between her and all this trouble it would have 
been keen joy to him to have felt raining upon his 
flesh, with heavy material blows, the shafts directed 


288 


THE GOLD-STEALEKS. 


against her tender heart ; but his strength was of no 
avail, he could think of nothing that he might do but 
take that insolent lawyer by the throat and choke him 
on the floor of the Court. He was helpless to do any- 
thing but love her, and every sight of her, every 
thought of her, added fuel to his passion. 

She went to him once outside the Court with out- 
stretched hands and swimming eyes, murmuring in- 
articulate words, and he understood that she meant to 
thank him for the efforts he had made to spare her in 
his evidence on the previous day. In truth she had 
been touched by the change in him, and she, too, was 
flghting with her love a harder battle than his. 

‘ I’m sorry for you, Chris,’ he said, ‘ but time will 
heal all this, never fear.’ 

She gazed at him and slowly shook her head. 

^ Never, Harry,’ she said. 

‘It will, it will! ’ he persisted. ‘Chris, you’re 
coming back after it’s all over? ’ 

‘Yes,’ she said, ‘ I must.’ 

‘ An’ you’ve not forgotten? ’ 

‘ No, Harry, I have not forgotten anything.’ 
There was a strain of flrmness in her voice that jarred 
him, and he looked at her sharply; but her face gave 
him no comfort. A moment later she was joined by 
Mrs. Summers and another friend, and he left her, 
his heart unsatisfled, his mind shaken with doubts 
and perplexities. 

Joe Hogers was found guilty and sentenced to 
twelve years’ hard labour. Close upon eight hundred 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


289 


ounces of gold were handed over to the Silver Stream 
Company, and the Company, ^ in recognition of the 
valuable services of Master Kichard Haddon,’ pre- 
sented him with a gold watch and chain — which for 
many months after was a source of ceaseless worry to 
his little mother, who firmly believed that its fame 
must have inspired every burglar and miscellaneous 
thief in Victoria with an unholy longing to possess it, 
was continually devising new hiding-places for the 
treasure, and arose three or four times a night to at- 
tack hypothetical marauders. 

lieturning from school at dinner-time on the day 
following, Dick found Frank Hardy sitting in the 
parlour holding his mother’s hand. Mrs. Hardy and 
Harry were also there, and a few people were loiter- 
ing about the front, having called to congratulate 
Frank Hardy on his release; for Frank had been 
given a free pardon in the Queen’s name for the 
crimes it was now known he had never committed. 

Dick found Frank looking older and graver, much 
more like his mother, whom he resembled in disposi- 
tion too. He greeted the boy quietly but with evi- 
dent feeling. 

‘ It seems I owe my liberty to your devilment, old 
boy,’ he said later. 

Dick was beginning to find the role of hero rather 
wearisome, and would gladly have returned to his old 
footing with the people of Waddy, but there was 
nevertheless a good deal of satisfaction in appearing 
as a person of importance in the eyes of the Hardies, 


290 


THE GOLD-STEALEKS. 


and he accepted the implied gratitude without any ex- 
cess of uneasiness. 

‘Well, I’ve got to pay you out, my lad,’ Frank 
continued. ‘ Your mother has been foolish enough 
to promise to be my wife, and that will place me in 
the responsible position of father to the most ungov- 
ernable young scamp in Christendom ; and one of the 
conditions your mother makes is that I am to prevent 
you from saving any more lives and reputations. 
What do you think of that? ’ 

‘ Oh, you’ll make a rippin’ father,’ said Dick. 
‘ That’ll be all right.’ 

^Good. Then it’s settled. We have your con- 
sent? ’ 

Dick nodded gravely. 

‘ Thanks for your confidence,’ said Frank laughing. 
‘ I think you’ll find me a fairly good sort as step- 
fathers go.’ 

Dick had no fears whatever on that point ; he and 
Frank had been excellent friends for as long as he 
could remember, and Frank had been his champion in 
many semi-public disagreements about billy-goats; 
and besides, he was a reader whose judgment the boy 
held in the highest respect, and that counted for a 
great deal. 

The boy had a message for Harry, and delivered it 
with great secrecy at the earliest opportunity. 

‘ She’s back at Summers’s, Harry,’ he whispered. 
‘ She gave Kitty a letter to give to me to give 
you.’ 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


291 


Harry tore the envelope with trembling impatient 
hands. It contained only a short note : ‘ Will you 
come to me at the gate under the firs to-night at 
eight?’ and was coldly signed, ‘Your true friend, 

C. S.’ 


CHAPTEK XXIV. 


Hakky awaited the approach of evening with burn- 
ing impatience, and his heart was lighter than it had 
been for weeks. He thought that now the distraction 
induced by her father’s danger, his arrest and his 
death, and the subsequent trials had departed, he 
would find her with a clear mind and responsive to his 
love, and it would be his pride and joy to teach her to 
forget her troubles and to make her happy. Harry, 
who up to the time of meeting Chris after his return to 
Waddy, had been even more unromantic and lacking 
in poetry than the average bush native, had, under 
the infiuence of his passion, evolved a strong vein of 
both romance and poesy; and the sudden develop- 
ment of this unknown side of his nature induced novel 
sensations. He thought of his previous self almost as 
a stranger, for whom he felt some sentiment of pity 
not untouched with contempt, and even when hope 
was feeblest he hugged his love and brooded over it 
secretly with the devotion of a tender girl. 

He was at the trysting-place a quarter of an hour 
before the time appointed, but Christina was already 
there. Her greeting chilled and subdued him. He 
went towards her, smiling, elate, with eager arms, 

m 


THE GOLD-STEALEKS. 


293 


calling her name; she put him back with extended 
hands. 

‘ ]^o, no, Harry; not that,’ she said, and he no- 
ticed in her voice the strength of some resolution, the 
firmness that had jarred upon him when last they met. 

‘ Hot that ! ’ he repeated. Chris, you love me. 
For God’s sake say it ! You have said it. You told 
me so, an’ it was true — oh, my darling, it was true ! ’ 

He could see her distinctly : she stood in a shaft of 
moonlight falling between the sombre firs, and her 
face was marble-like ; her whole pose was statuesque, 
all the girlish gentleness of the other days seemed to 
have fied from her, and her hour of tribulation had 
invested her with a dignity and force of will that sat 
well upon her stately figure. Harry beheld her with 
something like terror. This was not the woman he 
loved. His cause had never seemed so utterly hope- 
less as now, and yet he felt that it was not the true 
Chris with whom he was dealing ; that the true Chris 
was the soft-eyed clinging girl safely enshrined in his 
heart. 

^ Chris,’ he said, ‘you have changed — but you’ll 
come to me again ? ’ 

Her face was turned towards him ; she shook her 
head with passionless decision. 

‘Ho, Harry,’ she answered, ‘that is all past. I 
sent for you to tell you that we must forget. ’ 

‘ Forget! ’ he cried, springing forward and seizing 
her hand, ‘ how can I forget? Can a man forget that 
he loves? ’ 


294 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


‘ You will forget. It is better, and you will live to 
be glad that you did.’ 

‘ ISTever, never! Chris, what do you mean? 
Why’ re you talking to me of forgetting — why, why? ’ 

‘ Because I know in my heart that it must be. I 
came here to tell you so, to ask you to waste no more 
thought on me.’ 

‘ You do not care for me, then. Is that what you 
mean? ’ 

She gave him no answer, but her steadfast eyes 
looked into his and their light was cold, there was no 
glimmer of affection in them. 

‘ You never loved me, Chris? ’ 

She continued silent ; she had wrought herself to 
a certain point, to what she believed to be a duty, and 
she could only maintain the tension by exerting all her 
energies. 

‘ What have I done to be treated like this? ’ he 
continued. ‘ I did all I could to spare you. I would 
have spared him, too, if it’d been in my power.’ 

‘ You were generous. Yes, you did all you could ; 
for that I will be grateful to you all my life.’ 

‘ And I love you — I love you ! I want love, not 
gratitude, Chris — your love.’ 

‘ You must forget me ! ’ 

He approached her more closely, and his voice had 
lost its pleading tone. 

‘ On the night of the arrest, ’ he said, ‘ you told me 
you had deceived all — lied to all; did you lie to 
me? ’ 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


295 


He paused for a reply, but she did not speak, and 
he continued fiercely : 

^ Did you lie to me when you said you loved me? 
Was that a lie? Was it a trap? ’ 

‘ It does not matter now, Harry ; all is over, all. ’ 

‘ An’ you did lie to me. You lied because you 
thought I’d give your father up if my love was not 
returned. My God ! you thought I took advantage 
of ’ 

‘ No, no, no ! ’ she cried, ‘ not that. I thought no 
ill of you, I think none. Think what you will of me.’ 

‘ But I was fooled — cruelly, bitterly fooled. You 
needn’t have done it, Chris. I’d rather have died 
than have added to your sufferings. Your trick 
wasn’t necessary. I cared more for you than you’ll 
ever know. ’ 

Her hands trembled at her sides and her lips moved, 
but her eyes remained steadfast. 

‘ I know your good heart, Harry, ’ she said in a voice 
almost harsh from the restraint put upon her. ‘ Iwill 
bless you and pray for you while I live, but I can 
never be your wife. You are mad to think of me. 
Some day you will be glad I refused to listen to you, 
and grateful to me for what I have done. ’ 

‘ Grateful ! ’ he cried. ‘ To be grateful I must learn 
to hate you. I’ll go an’ learn that lesson.’ 

He turned from her and strode towards the gate, 
but there he paused with his arm upon the bar, and 
presently he moved back to her side. 

‘I can’t go like that, dear,’ he said, seizing her 


296 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


hand again, ‘ nothing on earth can ever make me any- 
thing but your lover, an’ nothing can make me believe 
you lied when you said you loved me. Your kisses 
were not lies. Speak to me — say that you did love 
me a little ! ’ 

‘ Good-bye, Harry,’ she said in the same constrained 
tone. 

‘For God’s sake be fair to me, Chris.’ 

‘ I am fair to you. Go ; learn to love someone who 
will bring you happiness. Good-bye.’ 

‘ There is one woman who could bring me happiness, 
an’ she stabs me to the heart. I won’t give you up, 
I won’t forget, I won’t say good-bye. When this 
misery’s gone from you, you will be your old self 
again, an’ we’ll be happy together.’ 

‘ Do not think that, Harry ; you must put me out 
of your heart.’ 

‘ Never — never while I live ! ’ 

He looked into her strong pale face for a moment, 
and lifting her yielding hand to his lips kissed it. 

‘ Good-night,’ he said gently. ‘ I’ll come again.’ 

‘ Good-bye, Harry,’ she whispered. 

He hastened away, carrying his trouble into the 
sleeping bush. She stood for a few moments after he 
had gone, erect, with her hands pressed over her eyes, 
then walked towards the house with firm steps ; but 
at the verandah uncontrollable sobs were breaking 
in her throat; she turned and fied into the planta- 
tion, and lying amongst the long grass wept unre- 
servedly. 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


297 


Harry’s mind was in a tumult; lie tried in vain to 
compose his faculties, to discover some reason for 
Miss Chris’s action apart from the dreadful possibility 
that she had really never cared for him. 'Now that 
he had it from her own lips that she could be nothing 
to him, he refused to accept the situation. There 
were barriers raised between them, he would beat 
them down ; there were mistakes, illusions, he would 
overcome them; he was strong, he would conquer. 
Anything was possible but that she had lied to him, 
but that her warm loving kisses were false and schem- 
ing. His heart scouted that idea with a blind rage 
that impelled him to hit out in the darkness. This 
spiritual fight tore the man of action, racked him limb 
from limb. Oh ! to have been able to settle it, bare- 
armed and abreast of a living antagonist in the child’s 
play of merely physical strife. He found tears on his 
cheek and this weakness amazed him, but his thoughts 
followed each other quickly, disconnectedly, like those 
of a drunken man ; he went home batfled, but cling- 
ing to hope with the tenacity of one who feels that 
despair means death. 

Next morning Harry found himself utterly miser- 
able, but still trusting that time would ser ve to restore 
Chris her natural cheerful temperament, and bring 
home to her again the conviction that she really loved 
him, and then all would be well. 

At about half -past two that afternoon Dick Haddon, 
in his capacity of faithful squire to the two lovers, 
visited the mine hot-foot^ with news for his friend. 


298 


THE GOLD-STEALEKS. 


Harry was below, but he hastened to answer the boy’s 
message. He had dreamed of a sudden repentance on 
his sweetheart’s part, and his heart beat fast as Dick 
beckoned him away from McKnight, who was at the 
windlass. 

‘ She’s gone away,’ said the boy eagerly. 

‘ Chris away? Where’s she gone? ’ 

‘ She’s goin’ to Melbourne — goin’ fer years an’ 
years. Mr. Summers is drivin’ her into Yarraman 
now. She left a letter for you with mother. Thought 
I’d come an’ tell you, ’case you might want to go after 
her.’ 

‘ Gone for good ! ’ This possibility had not oc- 
curred to the young man. ‘ She left a letter for me? 
Are you sure it’s for me? ’ 

‘ Yes, yes; mother’s got it. If I was you I’d get 

it at once; an’ I’d — I’d ’ Dick was much more 

excited than Harry ; he was eager to spur his friend 
to action. 

‘ How long have they been gone? ’ asked Harry, as 
he hastened towards the township. He felt that this 
was a crisis, that action was called for, but the news 
had confused him. He w'as fighting with the fear 
that she was taking this course to avoid him for the 
reason that his connection with her misfortunes had 
made him hateful to her. He burned to read her 
letter, but he had no mind for heroic schemes or proj- 
ects. 

^ On’y about a quarter of an hour,’ said Dick in 
answer to his question. ‘ They can’t’ ve gone far.’ 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


299 


‘ You’re sure she was going to Melbourne — going 
for good? ’ 

‘ Certain sure — heard her tell mum. ’ 

Mrs. Haddon was standing at the door when they 
reached the house, and Harry followed her into the 
kitchen. 

^ Give it to me, Alice,’ he said. ^ Quick! Can’t 
you see I’m half mad? ’ 

Mrs. Haddon handed him the letter, and he tore the 
envelope with awkward impatient fingers. The note 
was brief : 

‘ Dear Harry, — I write this to bid you good-bye 
again, and thank you again for all your kindness and 
goodness. I am going away because I can no longer 
bear to live amongst people who know me as the 
daughter of one who was a thief and almost a murderer. 
Don’t think bitterly of me. All that I have done I 
did for the best, according to my poor light. We may 
never meet again, but it would make me happier some 
day to know that you had forgiven me, and that you 
remembered me without anger in your own happiness. 
— Tour very true friend, 

^ ^Christina Shine.’ 

Harry sank into a chair and sat for a minute staring 
blankly at the letter, and Mrs. Haddon stood by his 
side staring curiously at him. Suddenly she slapped 
firmly on the table with her plump hand and asked 
sharply : 

‘Well, Harry, well?’ 


300 


THE GOLD-STEALEKS. 


He turned his blank eyes upon her. 

‘ Do you care a button for that girl? ’ 

‘ Care ? ’ he said. ‘ I care my whole life an’ soul 
for her ! ’ 

^ Well, then, what’re you goin’ to do? ‘ ’Re you 
goin’ to lose her? ’ 

‘ In the name o’ God, Alice, what can I do? 
She doesn’t want me; she is going away to be rid of 
me.’ 

‘Hot want you? You great, blind, blunderin’ 
man- creature, you; she loves you well enough to 
break her heart for you. Can’t you see why she’s 
going aw^ay? Of course you can’t. She’s goin’ be- 
cause she thinks she’s an object of shame an’ disgrace ; 
because she feels on her own dear head an’ weighin’ on 
her own great, soft, simple heart all the weight of the 
shame that belonged to that bad devil of a father of 
hers ; because all that the papers, an’ the lawyers, an’ 
the judge said about the sins o’ Ephraim Shine she 
feels burnin’ in red letters on her own sweet face. 
That’s why she’s goin’ ; an’ if she is leavin’ you it’s 
because she feels this whole villainous business makes 
her unfit to be your wife. How what’re you goin’ to 
do, Harry Hardy? ’ 

Harry had risen to his feet ; his face was fiushed, he 
trembled in every limb. 

‘ Do? ’ he gasped. ‘ Do? ’ 

‘ Do ! ’ Repeated the widow in a voice that had 
grown almost shrill. ‘ There’s a horse an’ saddle an’ 
bridle in McMahon’s stable.’ 


THE GOLD STEALERS. 


301 


Harry turned and ran from the house ; and the lit- 
tle widow, standing at the door flushed and tearful, 
looking after him, murmured to herself : 

^ An’ if you lose her, Harry Hardy, you’re not 
the man I took you for, an’ I’ll never forgive you — 
never, ’ 

She looked down and encountered Dick’s eyes — 
seeming very much larger and graver than usual — re- 
garding her with solemn admiration. The boy had 
conceived a new respect for his mother within the last 
two minutes, and had discovered in her a kindred 
spirit hitherto unsuspected. 

‘ My colonial ! that was rippin’, mum ! ’ he said. 


CHAPTEK XXV. 


Haery took French leave in McMahon’s stable. 
He saddled Click, Mac’s favourite hack, mounted him, 
and started down the dusty Yarraman road at a gallop. 
To Harry that ride was ever afterwards a complete 
blank. He started out with his mind full of one 
thought, an overpowering resolution. He would seek 
Chris, he would take her in his arms and defy every 
fear or scheme or power that might be directed against 
their love and happiness to part them again. That was 
his determination, and, having made it, he rode on 
blindly, pushing the horse to his best pace. 

After passing the Bo Peep the road ran out into 
treeless open country, slightly undulating. There 
were a few trickling rock-strewn creeks to cross, and 
Harry rushed Click through them like a man riding 
for his life. Half an hour’s gallop brought the vehicle 
in sight, and ten minutes later he came abreast of the 
buggy and brought his foaming horse to a trot. 

‘ Stop ! ’ he cried ; and Summers, much amazed, pulled 
up his pair. 

Harry threw himself from the saddle, leaving the 
horse his freedom, and, going to the buggy, seized 
Chris by the hand and drew her down towards him. 

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THE GOLD-STEALEKS. 


303 


‘ Chris, I want to speak to you. You must, you 
must ! ’ 

He helped her from the vehicle. His attitude was 
stern and masterful, and Chris yielded with a sense of 
awe. Summers regarded the pair for a moment with 
pursed lips and bent brows ; then a grim smile dawned 
about his mouth, and he touched his horses with the 
whip and drove slowly away down the road. 

Harry and Chris stood upon the plain facing each 
other, the girl’s hands clasped firmly in those of the 
man. Harry was dressed just as he had come from 
the mine ; her neat black frock was marked with the 
grey dust from his clothes. He was flushed ; his eyes 
had more of power than of love in them. She still 
strove, but felt his strength greater than hers, and her 
heart beat painfully. She whispered a pitiful protest 
when he drew her to his breast and clasped her closely 
in his irresistible arms. 

‘ I won’t let you go, my dear love — I swear I 
won’t! ’ he whispered vehemently. 

‘ You must. Oh, why do you make my task so 
hard ? ’ 

^ I won’t let you go from me, Chris.’ 

She looked into his glowing eyes, and struggled a 
little, murmuring incoherently. 

‘ Never, Chris, never 1 ’ he continued. ^ You love 
me! Look into my face an’ deny it if you can. 
You can’t ! ’ he cried, with a flush of triumph. 

‘ 1 have never denied it, Harry ; but I must go. 
’Tis because I love you ’ 


304 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


He laughed suddenly with the elation of a con- 
queror, and stopped her mouth with kisses. 

‘You love me, an’ you’d leave me. Why? Tell 
me why, my darling, my dear love ! ’ 

She threw back her head and gazed into his eyes. 
‘ I will tell you,’ she said. ‘ I would leave you be- 
cause I am the daughter of Ephraim Shine, the man 
whose memory is hated everywhere ; the man whose 
crimes you and yours can never forget ; the man who 
sent your innocent brother to prison, who whitened 
your mother’s hair with grief, who left you to die in 
the waters of the mine — who was a triple thief and a 
hypocrite. He was my father and I loved him. I 
cannot do anything else but love him now, but you 
must hate and loathe him. Think of me as your wife 
— me, the thief’s daughter, whispered about, pointed 
at. Think, as I have done, of that possible time when 
you might love me less because of him and the wrong 
he did you, when you might be ashamed to be seen 
with me. People don’t forget crimes like his, Harry ; 
they talk of them to their children. Think of your 
mother and your brother. Think, think — oh, Harry, 
think, for my strength is gone. ’ 

He only clasped her closely and kissed her cheek. 

‘ Think of your mother, ’ she continued. ‘ Harry, 
I would die to serve her. I would rather die than 
bring shame or grief into her life.’ 

‘ I love you ! I love you ! ’ he said. 

‘ Think, think of the people pointing at us, whis- 
pering about my disgrace.’ 


THE GOLD-STEALERS. 


305 


‘ No, dear, you think. Think of me without you 
— cursed, ruined, without a care for anything on 
earth. Chris, there’s not for me one ray of sunlight, 
not one smile in the world without you.’ 

Her forehead was bent upon his shoulder. He felt 
her strength leaving her, and continued with low 
vehement words : 

^ Dear, you love me, an’ you think it’s your duty 
to leave me. I tell you there’s no man on God’s 
earth here’d be so desolate. I’d rather be dead than 
lose you. To lose you is the only sorrow I can 
imagine. I care more for one smile of yours, one 
touch of your dear fingers, than for anything else in 
all the world. If you hate me an’ want to ruin my 
life, you’ll go. Chris, if you love me, can’t you see 
what the loss of you would mean? I tried to think of 
it last night an’ couldn’t, it was too terrible. I was 
like a child facing a great black cavern peopled with 
devils.’ 

His words, his earnestness, brought her new light ; 
she had not realised the depth of his love, she had 
thought that the blow might be heavy at first, but 
that he would soon learn to forget. She understood 
him better now; his love was like her own, and she 
knew that to be imperishable. She no longer strug- 
gled, but clung to him with trembling fingers. 

‘I did not think you loved me like that, dear,’ 
she said softly. 

‘ I worship you ! And you, my wife, my sweet 
wife? ’ 


306 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


She slid her arms about his neck and drew his face 
to hers. 

They stood in the centre of an open plain above 
which the yellow sun hung gleaming like a ball of 
gold; there was silence everywhere: Harry’s horse 
stood still with his nose to the ground, at a distance 
Summers’ buggy dipped slowly down into the bend 
of an old watercourse, and far off in the dim simmer- 
ing background there was a hazy suggestion of trees. 
The solitude was complete. 

‘ Then you won’t go, Chris? ’ he said. 

‘Yes,’ she answered, smiling into his face, ‘but 
not for ever. ’ 

He drew her closer at the suggestion. 

‘ But why must you go? Why should we part? ’ 

‘ Please, please, dear, for a time. I — I want to be 
away for a little while, till I can bear it better — you 
know what I mean. Ah! ’ she cried with sudden 
warmth, ‘ I thought I was going to be strong and 
brave and bear it all alone ; but I was only a girl, not 
a heroine — ^my heart was crying out against it by day 
and night. ’ 

‘ We’ll be very happy, Chris, in spite of those silly 
terrors. ’Twas Mrs. Haddon sent me after you.’ 

‘ I’m glad. Oh, I’m glad! ’ 

He gathered her to his heart, and kissed her again 
and again. 

‘Chris,’ he said, ‘you’re not quite fair to the 
people of Waddy; not a man or woman of them 
thinks a mean thought of you.’ 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


307 


‘ But I cannot bear to face them. Let me go for a 
time, and I will come back.’ 

‘ An’ be my wife? ’ 

‘ Yes, if you still want me.’ 

^ If ! You’ll write often. ’ 

‘ Every day if you wish it, dear.’ 

^ Every day then. Good-bye, my darling. I’ll 
let you go, but not for long. If you don’t come to 
me soon, I will come to you.’ 

The parting was long and loving, and then Harry 
recalled Jock Summers with a loud cooey. After 
Chris had been helped into the buggy the old man 
glanced sharply at Harry. 

‘ Well, Maister Highwayman? ’ he said. 

‘ She has promised to be my wife, sir, ’ said Harry. 

Summers looked into the girl’s brimming eyes, and 
his face softened. 

‘ I’m right glad,’ he said simply. 

Harry rode by the trap as far as the town ; then 
there was another parting, and he returned to Waddy 
like a man in a dream. That evening he told his 
mother that Christina Shine had promised to be his 
wife. Her answer surprised him. 

‘ She is a brave, beautiful, genuine woman, and I 
would not have it different. ’ 

‘ She said you were the best woman in the world, 
mother, and I believe she was right.’ 

‘Ho, no, Henry; I will be content now to have 
you think me the second best,’ said his mother, 
smiling. 


308 


THE GOLD-STEALEES. 


Chris, who was staying with a relation of Summers’ 
in Melbourne, wrote to say their parting should be 
for six months ; but it did not last more than half 
that time, and meanwhile two or three matters of 
interest had happened in Waddy. There had been 
several crushings from the IsTative Youth, and the 
yields justified the highest expectations ; Frank Hardy 
and Mrs. Haddon had been married, and Joel Ham 
had departed from Waddy under interesting circum- 
stances. One evening when reading the Mercury in 
the bar at the Drovers’ Arms, Ham looked up from 
his paper and addressed several members of the 
School Committee who were present : 

‘ Gentlemen,’ he said, ^ I’ll have to get you to fill 
rny position within a fortnight. ’ 

^ What,’ cried Peterson, ^ throwin’ up your billet? ’ 

^ I’m wanted in England,’ said the master, tapping 
the paper. 

There was a roar at this, which Joel treated with 
sublime indifference, but curiosity prompted Peterson 
to examine the paper closely when the teacher had 
set it aside, and he found the following advertise- 
ment : 

'If this should meet the eye of Joel Hamlyn, 
second brother of Sir Just Hamlyn, of Darnstable, 
he is hereby informed of the death of his brother and 
of his succession to the title and estates. Any infor- 
mation respecting the above Joel Hamlyn will be 
thankfully received.’ Then followed a description of 
Joel Hamlyn that was decidedly applicable to Joel 


THE GOLH-STEALEES. 


309 


Ham, and the address of a firm of Melbourne 
solicitors. 

The schoolmaster said nothing to satisfy the curios- 
ity of his committee, but was more communicative in 
the presence of Frank Hardy. 

‘I am Sir Joel Hamlyn now,’ he said, grinning 
down at his white moleskins and broken boots. ‘ Just 
and I hated each other like brothers. He was emi- 
nently respectable, I was eminently otherwise. We 
parted with mutual satisfaction, but he had two boys 
when I left England, both of whom have since died, 
or there would have been no anxious and respectful 
inquiries for my disreputable self. ’ 

MVell, I congratulate you,’ said Frank. ^It will 
be an agreeable change. ’ 

‘ I do not know,’ said Sir Joel; ^ I have got drunk 
on beer here, I shall get drunk on champagne there. 
That’s all the difference.’ 

Later, when parting with Frank for good, he said : 

‘ I have a long journey before me, and I have got 
to make up my mind in that time in what useful 
capacity I shall figure in Darnstable teetotal circles, 
whether as a shining light or a shocking example — 
whether, in short, it is better to live respectable or 
die drunk.’ 

The people of Waddy never heard what Sir Joel’s 
conclusion was, but they had an emphatic opinion 
about his end ; which conclusion, however reasonable 
it may have been in the light of past events, let us 
hope was the wrong one. 


310 


THE GOLD-STEALEKS. 


Harry wrote to Chris before twelve weeks had 
passed : ‘ I can stand this parting no longer. I am 
coming to you.’ Chris answering him said, ‘ Come,’ 
and he went; and when he returned to Waddy Chris 
accompanied him. They were married very quietly 
at Yarraman a few months later, and Dick Haddon 
was the only absentee amongst their immediate friends 
who have figured in this story. When Harry and 
Chris were restored to happiness, his interest in them 
lost its keen edge, but he was considerate enough to 
send an apology to the bridegroom. 

‘ Dear Harry,’ he wrote, ‘ I’m sorry I can’t come 
and be best man at your wedding, but there is to be a 
great race to-day — my grey billy. Butts, against 
Jacker Mack’s black billy. Boxer, for two pocket- 
knives and a joey ’possum, owners up — and of course 
I couldn’t get away. — Your mate, Dick.’ 


THE END. 


1 


J 


\ 




A Selected List of Fiction 

Published by « « « « « « 

Longmans, Green, & Co., 

91 and 93 Fifth Avenue, « New York. 


BY STANLEY J. WEYMAN. 


Each volume illustrated. 


A Gentleman of France. 
The House of the Wolf. 
Under the Red Robe. 

My Lady Rotha. 


Crown 8vo, $1.25. 

The Man in Black. 

From the Memoirs of a 

Minister of France. 

The Story of Francis Cludde, 


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Nada the Lily. 

Eric Brighteyes 


Cleopatra. 

She. 

The Wizard. 
Beatrice. 

The World’s Desire. 
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The Witch’s Head. 


Elissa ; OR, The Doom of Zimbabwe. 


Swallow, with 12 full-page Illlustrations, $1.50. 

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FROM THE MEMOIRS 
OF A MINISTER OF FRANCE. 

Br STANLEY J. WEYMAN, 

AUTHOR OF **A GENTLEMAN OF FRANCE^” ’ UNDER THE RED ROBE,” ETC., ETC 

With 36 Illustrations, of which 1 5 are full-page. 
12mo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1.25 


“ A collection of twelve tales, each one of which is to be clashed as a masterpiecCc 
lo subtle and strong is it in the levelation of character, so impressive its portrayal 
of the times and the scenes with which it deals. . . . Mr. Weyman has produced 
a really brilliant book, one that will appeal alike to the lovers of literature, of adven 
ture, and to those who demand in fiction the higher intellectual quality. . , . The 

chances are that those who take it up will not put it down again with a page or even 
a line unread.” — Boston Beacon. 

“ To read these merry tales of adventure and to lose all sense, for the moment 
of life’s complexities, is a refreshment ; it is to drink again at the pure spring ot 
romatice. . . . Weyman . . . has caught more of the inner spirit of sixteenth 

century life than any romancer since Scott.”— Oregonian, Portland, Ore. 

” These briefer tales have all the charm and attractiveness that attach to theij 
author’s longer romances, and many of the leading characters of the latter figure ir 
them. He catches the attention of the reader at the very outset and holds it to the end 
while his skill as a story-teller is so great that his characters become real beings to us^ 
and the scenes which he describes seem actual and present occurrences as he narrates 
them.”— S acred Heart Review, Boston. 


THE HOUSE OE THE WOLF. 

A ROMANCE. 

By STANLEY J. WEYMAN, 

author of “ a gentleman of FRANCE,” ETC. 


With Frontispiece and Vignette by Charles Kerr, 
12mo, Cioth, Ornamental, $1.25. 


” A delightful volume . . . one of the brightest, briskest tales I have met with for a 

long time. Dealing with the Eve of St. Bartholomew it portrays that night of horror from a 
point entirely new, and, we may add, relieves the gloom by many a flash and gleam of sun- 
shine. Best of all is the conception of the Vidame. His character alone would make the 
book live.”— Critic, N. Y. 

“ Recounted as by an eye witness in a forceful way with a rapid and graphic style that 
commands interest and admiration. 

Of the half dozen stories of St. Bartholomew’s Eve which we have read this ranks firs$ 
in vividness, delicacy of perception, reserve power, and high principle.” 

— Christian Union, N. Y. 

“ A romance which, although short, deserves a place in literature along side of Charles 
Reade’s ’ Cloister and the Hearth.’ . . . We have given Mr. Weyman’s book not only 

a thorough reading with great interest, but also a more than usual amount of space because 
we consider it one of the best examples in recent fiction of how thrilling and even bloody 
adventures and scenes may be described in a style that is graphic and true to detail, and yes 
delicate, quaint, and free from all coarseness and brutality.” 

— Commercial Advertiser, N. Y. 


LONGMANS, GEEEN, & 00., 91-93 FIFTH AYE., NEW TOEK. 


A GENTLEMAN OF FRANCE. 

Being: the Memoirs of Gaston de Bonne, 

Sieur de Marsac. 

By STANLEY J. WEYMAN, 

AUTHOR OF “the HOUSE OF THE WOLF,” ETC. 


With Frontispiece and Vigrnette by H. J. Ford. 
1 2mo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1.25, 


“ One of the best novels since ‘ Lorna Doone.’ It will be read and then re-read for the 
mere pleasure its reading gives. The subtle charm of it is not in merely transporting the 
nineteenth-century reader to the sixteenth, that he may see life as it was then, but in trans- 
forming him into a sixteenth-century man, thinking its thoughts, and living its life in perfect 
touch and sympathy ... it carries the reader out of his present life, giving him a new 
and totally different existence that rests and refreshes him.” — N. Y. World. 

No novelist outside of France has displayed a more definite comprehension of the verj 
«<ss»*nce of mediaeval French life, and no one, certainly, has been able to set forth a dcpictiox 
®f i\ in colors so vivid and so entirely in consonance with the truth. , • , The characters 

the tale are admirably drawn, and the narrative is nothing less than fascinating in its fin* 
5iavO) of adventure.”— 'B eacon, Boston. 

'’*We hardly know whether to call this latest work of Stanley J. Weyman a historica 
domance or a story of adventure. It has all the interesting, fascinating and thrilling charac 
feristics of both. The scene is in France, and the time is that fateful eventful one which 
tmlminiited in Henry of Navarre becoming king.^ Naturally it is a story of plots and intrigue 
Df danger and of the grand passion, abounding in intense dramatic scenes and most interest 
big situitionSc It is a romance which will rank among the masterpieces of historic fiction.’ 

— Advertiser, Boston. 

A romance after the style of Dumas the elder, and well worthy of being read by thos« 
a ho can enjoy stirring adventures told in true romantic fashion. . . . The great persom 

iges of the time— Henry III. of Valois, Henry IV., Rosny, Rambouillet, Turenne — are 
brought in skillfully, and the tragic and varied history of the time forms a splendid frame ir 
which tt set the picture of Marsac’s love and courage . . , the troublous days are well 

describee and the interest is genuine and lasting, for up to the very end the author manager 
sffetts which impel the reader to go on with renewed curiosity.”— The Nation. 

“A genuine and admirable piece of work. • • . The reader will not turn many pages 
before he finds himself in the grasp of a writer who holds his attention to the very last mo- 
saent of the story. The spirit of adventure pervades the whole from beginning to end. * . . 

It may be said that the narration is a delightful love story. The interest of the reader 
Us constantly excited by the development of unexpected turns in the relation of the principal 
loveis. The romance lies against a background of history truly painted. . • , The 

desonptions of the court life of the period and of the factional strifes, divisions, hatreds of th? 
%ge, are fine. . . . This story of those times is worthy of a very high place among histori- 

cal novels of recent years.”— P ublic Opinion. 

•* Bold, strong, dashing, it Is one of the best we have read for many years. We sat dowa 
Jor a cursory perusal, and ended by reading it delightedly through. . . • Mr. Weymar 

bas much of the vigor and rush of incident of Dr. Conan Doyle, and this book ranks worthily 
beside * The White Company.’ • • We very cordially recommend this book to the jaded 
movel reader who cares for manly actions more than for morbid introspection.” 

— ^The Churchman. 

•’♦The book is not only good literature, it is a ‘rattling good story,’ instinct with the 
^irit of true adventure and stirring emotion. Of love and peril, intrigue and fighting, there 
Is plenty, and many scenes could not have been bettered. In all his adventures, and they 
are many, Marsac acts as befits his epoch and his own modest yet gallant personality. Well 
known historical figures emerge in telling fashion under Mr. Weyman’s discriminating and 
fascinating touch.”— A thenaeum. 

“ I cannot fancy any reader, old or young, not sharing with doughty Crillon his admiratiofr 
for M. de Marsac, whoi though no swashbuckler, has a sword that leaps from its scabbard at the 
breath of insult. . . . There are several historical personages in the novel ; there is, 

course, a heroine, of great beauty and enterprise; but that true ‘Gentleman of France,' 
M, de Marsac, with his perseverance and valor, dominates them all.” 

— Mr. James Payn in the Illustrated London NewSc 


LOUGMANS, GEEEN, & 00., 91-93 FIETH AVE., NEW lOEE, 


UNDER THE RED ROBE, 

A ROMANCE. 

By STANLEY J. WEYMAN, 

AUTHOR OF “a GENTLEMAN OF FRANCE,” “ THE HOUSE OF THE WOLF,” KT^ 

With 1 2 Full-pagre Illustrations by R. Caton Woodville. 
1 2mo, Linen Cloth, Ornamental, $1.25. 


“ Mr. Weyman is a brave writer, who imagines fine things and describes them 
splendidly. There is something to interest a healthy mind on every page of his new 
story. Its interest never flags, for his resource is rich, and it is, moreover, the kind of 
a story that one cannot plainly see the end of from Chapter I. . . . the story reveals 
a knowledge of French character and French landscape that was surely never ac- 
quired at second hand. The beginning is wonderfully interesting.” — New York Times, 

” As perfect a novel of the new school of fiction as ‘ Ivanhoe ’ or ‘ Henry Esmond ’ 
was of theirs. Each later story has shown a marked advance in strength and treat- 
ment, and in the last Mr. Weyman . . . demonstrates that he has no superior 
among living novelists. . . . There are but two characters in the story — his art 
makes all other but unnoticed shadows cast by them — and the attention is so keenly 
fixed upon one or both, from the first word to the last, that we live in their thoughts 
and see the drama unfolded through their eyes.” — N. Y. World. 

” It was bold to take Richelieu and his time as a subject and thus to challenge com- 
parison with Dumas’s immortal musketeers ; but the result justifies the boldness. . . , 
The plot is admirably clear and strong, the diction singularly concise and telling, and 
the stirring events are so managed as not to degenerate into sensationalism. Few 
better novels of adventure than this have ever been written.” — Outlook, New York, 

” A wonderfully brilliant and thrilling romance. . . . Mr. Weyman has a positive 
talent for concise dramatic narration. Every phrase tells, and the characters stana 
out with life-like distinctness. Some of the most fascinating epochs in French history 
have been splendidly illuminated by his novels, which are to be reckoned among the 
notable successes of later nineteenth-century fiction. This story of ‘ Under the Red 
Robe ’ is in its way one of the very best things he has done. It is illustrated with 
vigor and appropriateness from twelve full-page designs by R. Caton Woodville.” 

— Boston Beacon. 

“ It is a skillfully drawn picture of the times, drawn fn simple and transparent 
English, and quivering with tense human feeling from the first word to the last. It is 
not a book that can be laid down at the middle of it. The reader once caught in its 
whirl can no more escape from it than a ship from the maelstrom.” 

—Picayune, New Orleans. 

“The ‘red robe’ refers to Cardinal Richelieu, in whose day the story is laid. 
The descriptions of his court, his judicial machinations and ministrations, his partial 
defeat, stand out from the book as vivid as flame against a background of snow. For 
the rest, the book is clever and interesting, and overflowing with heroic incident. 
Stanley Weyman is an author who has apparently come to stay.” — Chicago Post. 

“ In this story Mr. Weyman returns to the scene of his ‘ Gentleman of France,’ 
although his new heroes are of different mould. The book is full of adventure and 
characterized by a deeper study of character than its predecessor.” 

— Washington Post. 

” Mr. Weyman has quite topped his first success. . . . The author artfully 

E ursues the line on which his happy initial venture was laid. We have in Berault, the 
ero, a more impressive Marsac; an accomplished duelist, telling the tale of his own 
adventures, he first repels and finally attracts us. He is at once the tool of RichelieUj 
and a man of honor. Here is a noteworthy romance, full of thrilling incident set down 
by a master-hand,” — Philadelphia Press. 


LOUaMANS, GEEEN, & 00., 91-93 EIFTH AVE., NEW YOBK. 


THE STORY OF FRANCIS CLUDDE, 

iSr STANLEY J. WEYMAN. 

AUTHOR OF **A GENTLEMAN OF FRANCE,’* “UNDER THE RED ROBE,” “THE HOUSE Of 
THE WOLF,” “my LADY ROTHA,” ETC. 


With Four Illustrations. Crown 8vo, $1.25, 


** A delightfully told and exciting tale of the troublesome times of Bloody Mary in Eng- 
!iand, and the hero — every inch a hero — was an important actor in them.” 

— New Orleans Picayune. 

“ It is a highly exciting tale from beginning to end, and very well told.” 

— New York Herald. 

*‘One of the best historical novels that we have read for some time. . . . It is a 

story of the time of Queen Mary, and is possessed of great dramatic power. ... In char- 
acter-drawing the story is unexcelled, and the reader will follow the remarkable adventures 
of the three fugitives with the most intense interest, which end with the happy change on 
the accession of Elizabeth to the throne.” — Home Journal, Boston. 

“ The book presents a good historical pen-picture of the most stirring period of English 
civilization, and graphically describes scenes and incidents which undoubtedly happened. 
The style is plain, and the book well worthy of careful perusal. 

“ Humor and pathos are in the pages, and many highly dramatic scenes are described 
with the ability of a master hand.” — Item, Philadelphia. 

“ Is worthy of careful reading; It is a unique, powerful, and very Interesting story, the 
scene of which is laid alternately in England, the Netherlands, and the Rhenish Palatinate; 
th- times are those of Bloody Mary. Bishop Gardiner plays a leading part in this romance, 
which presents in good shape the manners and customs of the period.” 

— Buffalo Commercial. 

“ A romance of the olden days, full of fire and life, with touches here and there of love 
and politics. ... We have in this book a genuine romance of Old England, in which 
soldiers, chancellors, dukes, priests, and high-born dames figure. The time is the period of 
the war with Spain. Knightly deeds abound. The story will more than interest the reader; 
it will charm him, and he will scan the notices of forthcoming books for another novel by 
Weyman.” — Public Opinion, New York. 

“Its humor. Its faithful obseiAmnce of the old English style of writing, and its careful 
adherence to historic events and localities, will recommend it to all who are fond of historic 
novels. The scenes are laid in England and in the Netherlands in the last four years of 
Queen Mary’s life.”— Literary World, Boston. 

“ Is distinguished by an uncommon display of the Inventive faculty, a Dumas-like Ingenu- 
ity in contriving dangerous situations, and an enviable facility for extricating the persecuted 
hero from the very jaws of destruction. The scene is laid alternately in England, the Neth- 
erlands, and^ the Rhenish Palatinate; the times are those of Bloody Mary. Bishop Gardiner 
plays a leading part in this romance, which presents in good shape the manners and customs 
^ of the period. It is useless dividing the story into arbitrary chapters, for they will not serve 
to prevent the reader from ‘devouring’ the ‘ Story of Francis Cludde,’ from the stormy 
beginning to its peaceful end in the manor-house at Coton End.” 

— Public Ledger, Philadelphia. 

“ This is certainly a commendable story, being full of interest and told with great 
spirit. . . . It is a capital book for the young, and even the less hardened nerves of the 

middle aged will find here no superfluity of gore or brutality to mar their pleasure in a 
bright and clean tale of prowess and adventure.” — Nation, New York. 

“ A well-told tale, with few, if any, anachronisms, and a credit to the clever talent of 
Stanley J. Weyman.” — Springfield Republican. 

“ It is undeniably the best volume which Mr. Weyman has given us, both in iiterarj* 
ityle and unceasing interest.” — Yale Literary Magazine. 


LONGMAUS, GREEN, & 00., 91-93 FIPTH AYE., NEW YORK. 


MY LADY ROTHA. 

A ROMANCE OF THE THIRTY YEARS* WAR. 

By STANLEY J. WEYMAN. 

AUTHOR OF “a GENTLEMAN OF FRANCE,” “UNDER THE RED ROBE,’* 
“the HOUSE OF THE WOLF.” 


With Eight liiustrations. Crown 8vo, $1.25. 


“ Few writers of fiction who have appeared in England in the last decade have givet- 
their readers more satisfaction than Mr. Stanley J. Weyman, and no single writer of this 
number can be said to have approached him, much less to have equaled him in the romantic 
world of the historical novel ... he has the art of story-telling in the highest degree, 
the art which instinctively divines the secret, the soul of the story which he tells, and the 
rarer art, if it be not the artlessness, which makes it as real and as inevitable as life itself. 
His characters are alive, human, unforgetable, resembling in this respect those of Thackeray 
in historical lines and in a measure those of Dumas, with whom, and not inaptly, Mr. Wey- 
man has been compared. His literature is good, so good that we accept it as a matter of 
course, as we do that of Thackeray and Scott. . • , Mr. Weyman’s historical novels 
will live.” — New York Mail and Express. 

“ . . . differs signally from Mr. Weyman’s earlier published works. It is treated 

with the minuteness and lovingness of a first story which has grown up in the mind of the 
author for years. . . . Marie Wort is one of the bravest souls that ever moved quietly 
along the pages of a novel. She is so unlike the other feminine characters whom Weyman 
has drawn that the difference is striking and adds significance to this one book. . . . 

* My Lady Rotha ’ is full of fascinating interest, all the more remarkable in a work adhering 
so strictly to historical truth.” — Evening Post, Chicago. 

“This last book of his is brimful of action, rushing forward with a roar, leaving the 
reader breathless at the close ; for if once begun there is no stopping place. The concep- 
tion is unique and striking, and the culmination unexpected. The author is so saturated 
with the spirit of the times of which he writes, that he merges his personality m that of the 
supposititious narrator, and the virtues and failings of his men and w^^men are set forth in a 
fashion which is captivating from its very simplicity. It is one of his best novels.” 

— Public Opinion. 

“Readers of Mr. Weyman’s novels will have no hesitation in pronouncing his just pub- 
lished ‘ My Lady Rotha ’ in every way his greatest and most artistic production. We 
know of nothing more fit, both in conception and execution, to be classed with the immortal 
Waverleys than this his latest work. ... A story true to life and true to the timet 
which Mr. Weyman has made such a careful study.” —The Advbrtisek, Boston, 

“No one of Mr. Weyman’s books is better than ‘ My Lady Rotha ’ unless it be * Under 
the Red Robe,’ and those who have learned to like his stories of the old days when might 
made right will appreciate it thoroughly. It is a good book to read and read again.” 

— New York Worlds 

“ . . . As good a tale of adventure as any one need ask ; the picture of those war- 
like times is an excellent one, full of life and color, the blare of trumpets and the flash ot 
iteel — and toward the close the description of the besieged city of Nuremberg and of th«f 
battle under Wallenstein’s entrenchments is masterly.” — Boston Traveller. 

“The loveliest and most admirable character in the story is that of a young Catholic girl, 
while in painting the cruelties and savage barbarities of war at that period the brush is held 
by an impartial hand. Books of adventure and romance are apt to be cheap and 'Sensational,* 
Mr. Weyman’s stories are worth tons of such stuff. They are thrilling, exciti-'.g, absorbing, 
interesting, and yet clear, strong, and healthy in tone, written by a gentlemaa and a man <A 
sense and taste.” — Sacred Heart Review, Boston. 

“ Mr. Weyman has outdone himself in this remarkable book. . . . The whole story 

is told with consummate skill. The plot is artistically devised and enre’^ed before the read- 
er’s eyes. The language is simple and apt, and the descriptions are graphic and terse. The 
charm of the story takes hold of the reader on the very first page, and aolds him spell-bound 
to the very end.” — New Orleans Picayune, 


tONGMANS, GEEBN, & 00., 91-93 TIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK. 


THE RED COCKADE. 

A NOVEL OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 

By STANLEY J. WEYMAN, 

AUTHOR OF “a gentleman OF FRANCE,” “ UNDER THE RED PO^’^.” THE HOUSE OP 
THE WOLF,” ” MY LADY ROTHA,” ETC. 


With 48 Illustrations by R. Caton Woodville. Crown 8vo, 
Cloth, ornamental, $1.50. 


"^serves a place among the best historical fiction of the latter part of this centuiy 
o The gradu^ maddening of the people by agitators, the rising ot those who hav^ re 

yenges to feed, the burnings and the outrages are described in a masterly way The attack 
M the castle of St. Alais, the hideous death of the steward, the looting of the great building 
find the escape of the young lovers— these incidents are told in that breathless way which 
Weyman has made familiar in other stories. It is only when one has finished the book and 
has gone back to reread certain passages that the dramatic power and the sustained passion 
©f these scenes are clearly felt.”— San Francisco Chronicle. 


^ 1 Red Cockade, a story of the French Revolution, shows, in the first place, care- 

ffid study and dehberate, well-directed effort. Mr. Weyman . . . has caught the spirit 
of the times. . . . 1 he book is bWul of romantic incidents. It absorbs one’s interest 

from the first page to the last; it depicts human character with truth, and it causes the good 
and brave to tnumph. In a word, it is real romance.”— Syracuse Post. 


** We have in this novel a powerful but not an exaggerated study of the spirit of the high 
iDorn and the low born which centuries of aristocratic tyranny and democratic suffering en- 
gendered in France. It is history which we read here, and not romance, but history which 
p so perfectly written, so veritable, that it blends with the romantic associations in which it 
ss set as naturally as the history in Shakespeare’s plays blends with the poetry which vitab 
azes and glorifies it.’ — Mail and Express, New York. 


** It will be scarcely more than its due to say that this will always rank among Weyman’s 
best work. In the troublous times of 1789 in France its action is laid, and with marvellous 
skill the author has delineated the most striking types of men and women who made the Rev- 
olution so terrible.” — New York World. 


** * The Red Cockade ’ is a novel of events, instinct with the spirit of the eighteenth cen- 
tory and full of stirring romance. The tragic period of the French Revolution forms a frame 
in which to set the adventures of Adrien du Pont, Vicomte de Saux, and the part he plays 
m those days of peril has a full measure of dramatic interest. . . . Mr. Weyman has 

evidently studied the histo^ of the revolution with a profound realization of its intense 
ftragedy.” — Detroit Free Press. 

** The action of the story is rapid and powerful. The Vicomte’s struggle with his own 
^prejudices, his unhappy position in regard to his friends, the perils he encounters, and the 
peat bravery he shows in his devotion to Denise are strikingly set forth, while the historical 
background is made vivid and convincing — the frenzy caused by the fall of the Bastile, the 
attacks of the mob, the defence and strategy^ of the nobility, all being described with dra- 
matic skill and verisimilitude. It is a fascinating and absorbing tale, which carries the reader 
with It, and impresses itself upon the mind as only a novel of unusual merit and powei 
can do.” — Boston Beacon. 

•*The story gives a view of the times which is apart from the usual, and marked with a 
fine study of history and of human conditions and impulse on Mr. Weyman’s part. Regard- 
ing his varied and well-chosen characters one cares only to say that they are full of interest 
and admirably portrayed. . . . It is one of the most spirited stories of the hour, and one 

®f the most delightfully freighted with suggestion.” — Chicago Interior. 

**With so striking a character for his hero, it is not wonderful that Mr. Weyman has 
®volved a storj'^ that for ingenuity of plot and felicity of treatment is equal to some of his 
best efforts. ... * The Red Cockade ’ is one of the unmistakably strong historical ro 

anances of the season.”— Boston Herald. 

** We are greatly mistaken if the * Red Cockade * does not take rank with the verj 
feest book that Mr. Weyman has written.” — Scotsman. 


LONGMANS, GREEN, & C0„ 91-93 EIFTH AVE„ NEW TORE. 


SHREWSBURY. 

A ROMANCE OF THE TIME OF WILLIAM AND MARY. 

By STANLEY J. WEYMAN, 

AUTHOR OF “ A GENTLEMAN OF FRANCE,” “ UNDER THE RED ROBE,” * THE HOUSE OF 
THE WOLF,” “MY LADY ROTHA,” ETC. 


Witn 24* Illustrations by Claude A. Shepperson, Crown 8vo, 
Cloth, Ornamental, $1.50. 


“ Mr. Stanley Weyman has written a rattling: good romantic story that is ’n 
every way worthy of the author of the ever-delightful ‘ Gentleman of France.’ ” 

—New York Sun. 

“ Considered as fictive literature, the novel is an achievement worthy of high . -. . 
praise. The characters are projected with admirable distinctness ; the whole story and 
its incidents are well imagined and described ; the reader, while he cannot repress his 
contempt for the supposed narrator, is always interested in the story, and there is an 
abundance of dramatic action. Mr. Weyman has caught the spirit of the narrative 
style of the period without endeavoring, evidently, to adhere to the vocabulary and 
diction, or peculiarities of syntax. . . . Again we see that Mr. Weyman has no 

superior among living writers of romance.” — Philadelphia Press. 

“Turning aside from mediaeval French scenes, Stanley J. Weyman takes up in 
‘Shrewsbury’ an English theme, and he weaves from the warp and woof of history 
and fancy a vivid, unique, close-textured and enthralling romance. . . . Mr. 
Weyman has produced in ‘ Shrewsbury ’ a novel that all admirers of his former books 
will be eager to read, and that will win for him new suffrages. The illustrations are 
drawn with skill and appreciation.”— Beacon, Boston. 

“ ‘Shrewsbury’ is a magnificent confirmation of Mr. Weyman’s high estate in the 
world of fiction. 

Again he has proved in this, his latest novel, that the romantic treatment is 
capable, under a masterly hand, of uniting the thrill of imagination with the dignity of 
real life. His characters are alive, human, unforgetable. His scenes are unhackneyed, 
dramatic, powerful. The action is sustained and consistent, sweeping one’s interest 
along irresistibly to a denouement at once logical and climactic. And through it all 
there glows that literary charm which makes his stories live even as those of Scott 
and Dumas live. . . . 

The whole novel is a work of genuine literary art, fully confirming the prediction 
that when the author of ‘ A Gentleman of France ’ once began to deal with the histor- 
ical materials of his own country he would clinch his title to be ranked among the 
greatest of romantic writers.”— Chicago Tribune. 

“ Aside from the story, which is remarkably well told, this book is of value for its 
fine pen pictures of William of Orange and his leading courtiers— a story of absorbing 
interest, but it differs materially from any of his other works. The best thing in the 
book is the sketch of Ferguson, the spy, and of the remarkable hold which he obtained 
over prominent men by means of his cunning and his malignancy. He dominates 
every scene in which he appears. Some of these scenes have rarely been excelled in 
historical fiction for intensity of interest. Those who have not read it, and who are 
fond of the romance of adventure, will find it fulfils Mr. Balfour’s recent definition of 
the ideal novel — something which makes us forget for the time all worry and care, 
and transports us to another and more picturesque age.”— San Francisco Chronicle. 

“ A most readable and entertaining story. . . . Ferguson and Smith, the plot- 
ters, the mothers of the duke and Mary the courageous, who became the wife of Price, 
all seem very real, and with the other characters and the adventures which they go 
through make up an interest-holding book which can be honestly recommended to 
every reader of fiction.”— Boston Times. 

“ A romance written in the author’s best vein. The character drawing is partic- 
ularly admirable, and Richard Price, Ferguson, King William and Brown stand out in 
strong relief and with the most expressive vitality. The story is also interesting and 
contains many strong scenes, and one follows the adventures of the various characters 
with unabated interest from first page to last.”— Evening Gazette, Boston. 


LONGMANS, GREEN, & CO., 91-93 FIFTH AVE., NEW YORK. 


THE CASTLE INN. 

A ROMANCE. 

By STANLEY J. WEYMAN. 

AUTHOR OF “a gentleman OF FRANCE,” ‘‘UNDER THE RED ROBE,” 
‘‘SHREWSBURY,” ETC., ETC. 


With six full-pagre Illustrations by Walter Appleton Clark. 
Crown 8vo, Cloth, ornamental, $1.50. 


“A tale which is full of old-world romance and adventure. It has a strong flavor 
of the under life in England when George, the Third was young, when sign-posts 
served also as gibbets, when travel was by coach and highwaymen were many, when 
men drank deep and played high. There are plenty of stirring scenes along the way, 
plenty of treachery and fighting at cross-purposes which lead to intricate and dramatic 
situations. The heroine’s charms recall Mile, de Cocheforet in ‘ Under the Red Robe,’ 
and she proves herself a maid of spirit through all the mishaps which befall her. One 
of the most notable things about ‘ The Castle Inn ’ is the way in which Mr. Weyman 
has caught the spirit of the age, and manages to imbue his readers with its feeling.” 

—Detroit Free Press. 

” . . . . In ‘ The Castle Inn,’ this master of romance tells a story of the time 
of George III. in the third person. ... A story of rapid action, with a swinging 
succession of moving incidents that keep the reader incessantly on ihe qut vive. It 
deals with human emotions with directness and thoughtfulness.” 

—The Press, Phila., Pa. 

“ . . . * The Castle Inn ’ . . . is so fresh and entertaining that it takes one 

back to ‘A Gentleman of France,’ and other good things this author did several years 
ago. Mr. Weyman, in looking about for an appropriate setting for his romance, very 
wisely eschews scenes and people of to-day, and chooses, instead, England a hundred 
and thirty years ago, when George III. was on her throne, and living was a far more 
picturesque business than it is now. Beautiful maidens could be kidnapped then; 
daring lovers faced pistols and swords in behalf of their sweethearts, and altogether 
the pace was a lively one. Mr. Weyman knows how to use the attractive colorings to 
the best advantage possible.”— C hicago Evening Post. 

“ . . . a piece of work which is infinitely better than anything else which he 

has accomplished. He has treated the eighteenth century, the time of the elder Pitt, 
with a grasp and a sympathy that presage a greater reputation for this novelist than 
he has enjoyed hitherto. The story itself is worth the telling, but the great thing is 
the way it is told.”— N ew York Sun. 

“ ... he has a firm grasp of his period in this book, and revives the atmos- 
phere of the last century in England, with its shallow graces and profound brutality, 
coherently and even with eloquence . . . it is a most interesting story, which 

should please the reader of romantic tastes and sustain the author’s reputation.” 

— New York Tribune. 

“The characters in the book are all entertaining, and many of them are droll, 
while a few, like the conscientious Mr. Fishwick, the attorney, and the cringing 
parasite, Mr. Thomasson, are, in their own way, masterpieces of character study. 
Take it all in all, ‘ The Castle Inn ’ is in many ways the best work which has yet come 
from Mr. Weyman’s pen.” — C ommercial Advertiser, New York. 

“ Mr. Weyman has surpassed himself in ‘ The Castle Inn.’ From cover to cover 
the book teems with adventure and romance, and the love episode is delicious. Julia 
will live as one of the most graceful heroines in the literature of our time. . . . 

We get an excellent idea of the doings of fashionable society in the time when George 
III. was young, and altogether the volume can be heartily recommended as the best 
thing'that Weyman has done, and, in the opinion of one, at least, the most fascinating 
book of the season.” — H ome Journal, New York. 


LONGMANS, GEEEN, & CO., 91-93 FIPTH AVE., NEW TOEK. 


SOPHIA 

By STANLEY J. WEYMAN 

AUTHOR OF “A GENTLEMAN OF FRANCE,” “UNDER THE RED ROBE,” ETC. 

With 12 Illustrations by C, Hammond. Crown 8vo, cloth, 
ornamental, $1.50. 


“ Mr. Weyman’s new romance illustrates the types and manners of fashion- 
able London society in the year 1742. In everything that means the revival of 
an historical atmosphere it is skilful, and, on the whole, just.. The characters 
also are well realized. . . . ‘ Sophia ’ is a decidedly interesting novel. . . . 
The tale moves swiftly, hurrying on from the town to the heath, from hatred to 
love, from imprisonment on bread and water to diamonds . . . and a dozen 
other things. Sophia, the heroine, is a bundle of girlish foolishness and charms. 
‘Sophia,’ the book, is a bundle of more or less extraordinary episodes woven 
into a story in the most beguiling manner.” — New York Tribune, April, 1900. 

“ It is a good, lively, melodramatic story of love and adventure . . . it is 
safe to say that nobody who reads the lively episode in the first chapter will 
leave the book unfinished, because there is not a moment’s break in the swift 
and dramatic narrative until the last page. . . . The dramatic sequence is 
nearly faultless.”— T ribune, Chicago. 

“ Sophia, with her mistakes, her adventures, and her final surrender; Sophia 
moving among the eighteenth century world of fashion at Vauxhall ; Sophia fly- 
ing through the country roads, pursued by an adventurer, and Sophia captured 
by her husband, transport one so far from this work-a-day life that the reader 
comes back surprised to find that this prosaic world is still here after that too- 
brief excursion into the realm of fancy.” 

—New York Commercial Advertiser. 

“The gem of the book is its description of the long coach-ride made by 
Sophia to Sir Hervey’s home in Sussex, the attempt made by highwaymen to 
rob her, and her adventures at the paved ford and in the house made silent by 
smallpox, where she took refuge. Tnis section of the story is almost as breath- 
less as Smollett. ... In the general firmness of touch, and sureness of 
historic portrayal, the book deserves high praise.”— B uffalo Express. 

“ ‘ Sophia ’ contains, in its earlier part, a series of incidents that is, we believe, 
the most ingenious yet planned by its author. . . . The adventure develops 
and grows, the tension increases with each page, to such an extent that the 
hackneyed adjective, ‘ breathless,’ finds an appropriate place.” 

—New York Mail and Express. 

“ ‘ Sophia,’ his latest, is also one of his best. A delightful spirit of adventure 
hangs about the story; something interesting happens in every chapter. The 
admirable ease of style, the smooth and natural dialogue, the perfect adjust- 
ment of events and sequences conceal all the usual obtiusive mechanism, and 
hold the curiosity of the reader throughout the development of an excellent plot 
and genuine people.”— P ublic Ledger, Philadelphia, Pa. 

“Those who read Mr. Stanley J. Weyman’s ‘Castle Inn’ with delight, will 
find in his ‘ Sophia ’ an equally brilliant performance, in which they are intro- 
duced to another part of the Georgian era. . . . Mr. Wey man knows the 
eighteenth century from top to bottom, and could any time be more suitable 
for the writer of romance ? . . . There is only one way to define the subtle 
charm and distinction of this book, and that is to say that it deserves a place on 
the book-shelf beside those dainty volumes in which Mr. Austin Dobson has em- 
balmed the very spirit of the period of the hoop and the patch, the coffee-house, 
and the sedan chair. And could Mr. Stanley Weyman ask for better company 
for his books than that ? ’’—Evening Sun, New York. 

“ Contains what is probably the most ingenious and exciting situation even 
he has ever invented.”— BOOK Buyer, New York. 


LONGMANS, GEEEN, & 00., 91-93 riETH AVE., NE¥ YOEK. 


ONE OF OURSELVES 

By Mrs. L. B. WALFORD 

AUTHOR OF “THE BABY’S GRANDMOTHER,” “ LEDDY MARGET,” ETC. , ETC. 


Crown 8vo, 454 Pages, $1.50 


“ Never before were better portraits made of middle-class English women 
than we find in the wives of the three bankers, Thomas, Charles, and Stephen 
Farrell ; ... is about the best novel Mrs. Walford has ever written, and as 

has already been said, her ch iracters, all of them, are depicted with remarkable 
grace and virility.” — Times, Boston. 

“ An entertaining story with characteristic piquancy, shrewdness, and sensi- 
bility. She has ever had a special gift for the description of what may be called 
tasteful love-making.” — New York Tribune. 

“Is an amusing English story ; ... it is full of amusing incidents and 

situations.” — San Francisco Chronicle. 

“There is great variety of scene and incident in the novel, and the situ- 
ations are amusing.” — Argonaut, San Francisco. 

“A very vivacious story of four orphans. . . . The conversations are 

unusually well managed.” — New England Magazine. 

“ This is a story of English life, brightly told, a little on the long side, but 
interesting and entertaining throughout. Moreover, it is altogether wholesome 
reading, which is more than can be said of many stories published nowadays. 
Its lessons are good. There is one for young girls and women, and one, too, 
for men. Much of the telling of the story is managed by conversations, and 
these, though oftentimes very amusing, are simple and natural — very different 
from the smart persiflage and elegant wit-play so much striven for by many 
writers of modern fiction. ‘ One of Ourselves ’ is indeed on the whole a very 
likable story. There are many charac-ers in it — some pretty ones — and these 
are all portrayed admirably A story with so much domesticity in it, and so 
little that is stagey and melodramatic, is not far from rare.” 

—Bulletin of New Books. 

“ It is a remarkably good character study. The quiet adventures and pleas- 
ant happenings of the various members of the family are most interesting, and 
one enjoys the society of a wholesome group throughout the whole story.” 

—Financial Record, New York. 

“A very bright social study, and the author succeeds in thoroughly arousing 
the reader’s interest in the love-making of William Farrell, who, in the guise of 
an h.mored member of society, is a consummate scoundrel.” 

—Herald, Montreal. 


LONGMANS, GEEEN, & CO., 91-93 TITTH AVENUE, NEW TOEK. 


WAYFARING MEN. 

By EDNA LYALL, 

AUTHOR OF ‘'DONOVAN,” “ WE TWO,” “DOREEN,” ETC. 


Crown 8vo, cloth, ornamental, $1.50. 


. We take up Edna Lyall’s last novel . . . with high expectations, and 

we are not disappointed. Miss Bayly has acquired a wonderful insight into human nature, 
and this last production of her pen is full of the true portrayals of life. . . . The whole 

book is a whiff of ‘ caller air ’ in these days of degenerate fiction.” 

— Commercial Advertiser, New York. 

“ One of her best stories. It has all the qualities which have won her popularity in the 
past.” — Sentinel, Milwaukee. 

“A well- written and vigorous story.” — Observer, New York. 

“It is a strong story, thoroughly well constructed, . . . with the characters very 

skilfully handled. . . . Altogether the story is far above the ordinary, and bids fair to 
be one of the most successful of the opening season.” — Commercial, Buffalo. 

“ Edna Lyall . . . has added another excellent volume to the number of her ro- 
mances. . . . It sustains the reputation of the author for vigorous writing and graceful 

depicting of life, both in the peasant’s cabin and the noble’s hall.’’ 

— Observer, Utica, New York. 

“ Miss Lyall’s novel is one of unflagging interest, written in that clear, virile style, with 
its gentle humor and dramatic effectiveness, that readers well know and appreciate. . . . 

On many pages of the story the writer reveals her sympathetic admiration for Ireland and 
the Irish. ‘ Wayfaring Men ’ is a literary tonic to be warmly welcomed and cheerfully com- 
mended as an antidote to much of the unhealthy, morbid, and enervating fiction of the day.” 

— Press, Philadelphia. 

“ The author has made a pretty and interesting love-story, ... a truthful picture of 
modern stage life, and a thoroughly human story that holds the interest to the end.” 

— Tribune, Chicago. 

“ It is a story that you will enjoy, because it does not start out to reform the world in less 
than five hundred pages, only to wind up by being suppressed by the government. It is a 
bright story of modern life, 'and it will be enjoyed by those who delighted in ‘ Donovan,’ 
‘ We Two,*^ and other books by this author.”— Cincinnati Tribune. 

“A new book by Edna Lyall is sure of a hearty welcome. ‘Wayfaring Men’ will not 
disappoint any of her admirers. It has many of the characteristics of her earlier and still 
popular books. It is a story of theatrical life, with which the author shows an unusually 
extensive and sympathetic acquaintance.” — New Orleans Picayune. 

“ Characterized by the same charming simplicity of style and realism that won for 
‘Donovan’ and ‘ Knight Errant’ their popularity. . . . Miss Lyall has made no attempt 

to create dramatic situations, though it is so largely a tale of stage life, but has dealt with 
the trials and struggles of an actor’s career with an insight and delicacy that are truly pleas- 
ing.” — The Argonaut, San Francisco. 

“ Is a straightforward, interesting story, in which people and things theatrical have 
much to do. The hero is an actor, young and good, and the heroine— as Miss Lyall’s hero- 
ines are sure to be — is a real woman, winning and lovable. There is eriough excitement in 
the book to please romance-lovers, and there are no problems to vex the souls of those who 
love a story for the story’s sake. It will not disappoint the large number of persons who 
have learned to look forward with impatient expectation to the publication of Miss Lyall’s 
‘‘next novel.’ ‘ Wayfaring Men’ is sure of a wide and a satisfied reading.” 

— Womankind, Springfield, Ohio. 


LONGMANS, GKEEN, & 00,, 91-93 EIPTH AYE., NEW TOEK. 


HOPE THE HERMIT 

A ROMANCE OF BORROWDALE. 

By EDNA LYALL, 

AUTHOR OF “DOREEN,” “WAYFARING MEN,” ETC. 


Crown Svo, cloth, ornamental, $1 .50. 


•‘When Edna Lyall wrote this book she stepped into the front rank of living novelists. 
It exemplifies the finest type of historical romance, which is, of course, the highest form of 
fictious literature. The scene of the story is one of the loveliest which could have been 
chosen, the lake region of England. . . . Her story is full of life and incident, and at 

the same time conveys lessons of high morality. . . . Altogether this is one of the 

healthiest, purest, best, and most powerful romances in the whole range of English 
literature.” — Living Church, Chicago. 

“ Miss Bayly ... by careful examination of her authorities has been able to con- 
struct an uncommonly good romance of the days when brother’s hand was against brother. 
It is distinctly good work — a stirring story and in every way creditable to the author.” 

— Public Opinion, New York. 

“The characters are well drawn, never mere puppets. There is a coherent, well- 
thought-out, and carefully developed plot, and the style is clear and straightforward. The 
story is wholesome and interesting, and much better worth reading than a good many of 
the so-called ‘stories of adventure.’ ” — Beacon, Boston. 

“ There are few novelists of the present day whose writings are better known and liked 
than those of Edna Lyall. They are always clean, pure and wholesome, and delightful read- 
ing. The latest, ‘ Hope the Hermit,’ deals with her favorite period, the seventeenth century. 
We have the revolution, the accession of William and Mary, and the Jacobite plots, and 
among the real characters introduced are Archbishop Tillotson, Lady Temple and George 
Fox, the Quaker. . . . The story ends as all love stories should, to be perfectly satisfactory 
to the average novel reader, and ‘ Hope the Hermit ’ will find many readers, who are fond 
of a good story well told.” — Advertiser, Portland, Me. 

“ She is quite at home with her theme. . . . It is a fine historical novel, admirably 

written, and one of her best books.” — Literary World, Boston. 

“ ... is one of those delightful stories that have made the author very popular 

and that one can take up with the absolute certainty of finding nothing unclean or repel- 
lent. It is a clear, strong, well-designed, refreshing story, based upon scenes and events 
in the days of William and Mary of England — days when a man could hardly trust his own 
brother, and when sons were on one side in a rebellion, and the father on the other. . . . 
Many of the situations are very exciting, the characters are admirably drawn, and the whole 
telling of the story is entertaining, grateful and artistic. We regard it as quite as good as 
‘Donovan,’ and the other popular stories by the same author.” — Buffalo Commercial. 

“ Miss Bayly has kept her pages clean and white. The book is preeminently suitable 
to the shelves of a circulating library, as well as to the reading-table under the family lamp. 
It not only entertains, but gives historical data in a pleasantly impressive manner . . . 

we have, notwithstanding a few extravagances, a very fascinating story, enlivened by the 
admitted license of the writer of romance.” — Home Journal, New York. 

“ This latest work of Miss Bayly has all the qualities which have won her popularity in 
the past. The book should have a considerable vogue, appealing, as it does, not only to 
those who like quick action, plenty of adventure, and much picturesqueness, but also to 
those who have a cultivated literary palate.” — Dispatch, Richmond, Va. 

“ ... is one of the best specimens of Edna Lyall’s talent for telling a good story 

in engaging style. . . . The reader’s attention is held throughout.” 

— Press, Philadelphia. 

“ There is much in this book to commend it. It is original and has great activity, 
. . . Miss Lyall possesses literary talent, and her style is clear, and, to one unfamiliar 

with ner writings, this latest production will be a delightful treat. The reader will put it 
down delighted with the story, refreshed by the study of the merits and faults of its charac- 
ters, and cogitating upon the great events which, during the making of English history, 
followed quickly one upon another toward the close of the seventeenth century.” 

— Picayune, New Orleans. 


LONGMANS, GEEEN, & 00., 91-93 PITTH AYE,, NEW TOM. 


HEART OF THE WORLD, 


A STORY OF MEXICAN ADVENTURE. 


By H, rider haggard, 

AUTHOR OF ** SHE,’* “ MONTEZUMA’S DAUGHTER,” “ THE PEOPLE OF THE MIST,” «TC- 


With 13 full-page Illustrations by Amy Sawyer 
1 2mo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1.25. 


” The adventures of Ignatio and his white friend will compare for strangeness with anj 
that the writer has imagined. And the invention of the city and people of die heart, of the 
secret order, with its ritual and history, and the unforeseen crisis of the tale, shows that the 
quality that most distinguishes the author’s former works is still his in abundance. . . , 

The tale as a whole is so effective that we willingly overlook its improbability, and so novel 
Aat even those who have read all of Rider Haggard’s former works will still find something 
surprising in this.” — The Critic, 

“ Here are strange adventures and wonderful heroisms. The scene is laid in Mexico. 
The story rehearses the adventures of an athletic Englishman who loves and weds an 
Indian princess. There are marvelous descriptions of the ‘ City of the Heart,’ a mysteri- 
ous town hemmed in by swamps and unknown mountains.” 

— Commercial Advertiser, New York. 

** Has a rare fascination, and in using that theme Mr. Haggard has not only hit upon 
a story of peculiar charm, but he has also wrought out a story original and delightful to 
even the most jaded reader of the novel of incident.” — Advertiser, Boston. 

*Ht is a fascinating tale, and the reader will not want to put the book down till he has 
read the last word.” — Picayune, New Orleans. 

“The lovers of Rider Haggard’s glowing works have no reason to complain of his latest 
book. . . . The story is, all in all, one of the most entertaining of the author’s whole 

list.” — Traveller, Boston. 

** In its splendor of description, weirdness of imagery, its astonishing variety of detail, 
and the love story which blends with history and fantasy, the book without doubt is a 
creation distinct from previous tales. Maya, the Lady of the Heart, is an ideal character, 
, , . Interest is sustained throughout.” — Post, Chicago. 

*‘The success of Mr. Haggard’s stories 'consists in the spirit of adventure which runs 
through them, in their rapid succession of incidents, in the bustle which animates their 
characters, and in the trying situations in which they are placed. , . . this last story 

, , . introduces his readers ... to a comparatively new field of fiction in the evolu- 

tion of an ancient Aztec tradition concerning the concealed existence of a wonderful Golden 
City. , , .” — Mail and Express, New York. 

“A thrilling story of adventure in Mexico. It is doubtful if he has surpassed in vivid 
coloring his delineation of the character of ‘Maya.’ This work is really a notable addition 
to the great body of romance with which his name is associated.” — Press, Philadelphia, 

** This romance is really one of the best he has given us.” — Times, Philadelphia. 

** When the love of romance shall die in the human heart we may bid farewell to all that 
is best in fiction. ... In this story we have the same reckless dash of imagination and 
the same gorgeous profusion of barbaric scenes and startling adventure which have always 
characterized Mr. Haggard’s works.” — Independent, New York. 

“ His latest, and one of his most powerful stories. It shows the same trenchant, effective 
way of dealing with his story ; and the same power in open, startling oituations. It will 
;ive the reader some new idea of that ancient people, the Aztecs, as wefl as ©f tlie mere mod- 
im Mexicans. It is as strong as ‘ King Solomon’s Mines.’ ” — Times, Hartford. 


.LONGMANS, GIEEN, & 00., §1-98 FIFTH ATE., NEW TOEK. 


JOAN HASTE. 

A NOVEL. 

By H. rider haggard, 

AUTHOR OF “she,” ** HEART OF THE WORLD,” “ THE PEOPLE OF THE MIST,” ETC., ETC 

With 20 full-page Illustrations by F. S. Wilson. 

12mo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1.25. 


^ It IS less adventurous m theme, the tone is more quiet, and the manner more 
m keeping with the so-called realistic order of fiction than anything Mr. Haggard has 
heretofore published. ‘ Joan Haste ’ is by far the most earnest, and in many ways the 
most impressive work of Mr. Haggard’s that has yet been printed. The insight into 
character which it displays is almost invariably keen and irue. Every personality in 
the story is fully alive, and individual traits of thought and action are revealed little 
by little as the narrative progresses, until they stand forth as definite and consistent 
creations.”— The Boston Beacon. 


All the strong and striking peculiarities that have made Mr. Haggard's earlier 
works so deservedly popular are repeated here in a new spirit. Not only that but 
his literary execution shows an enlarged skill and betrays the master-hand of ’self- 
rptraint that indicate maturity of power. His conception of character is improved by 
the elimination of all crudeness and haste, and his delineations are consequently closer 
to life. One is reminded strongly of Dickens in his admirable drawing of minor char- 
acters. Mrs. Bird is such a character. . . . The illustrations of the book are nu- 
merous and strikingly good. Many of the scenes are intensely dramatic, and move the 
feelings to the higher pitch. . . . Even in the little concerns of the story the wealth 
ot its imagination appears, glowing in the warmth of its unstinted creations. There is 
a splendor in his description, a weird spirit in his imagery, a marvelous variety of 
detail, and at all points a creative force that give a perpetual freshness and newness to 
the fiction to which he gives his powers. To take up one of his fascinating books is 
^ finish It, and this story of ‘ Joan Haste ’ is not to be outdone by the best of them all. 
1 he strength, emphasis, and vigor of his style as well as of his treatment is to be 
credited to none but superior gifts and powers. . . . ‘Joan Haste ’ will become 
the favorite of everybody.”— Boston Courier. 


Mr. Haggard s new story is a sound and pleasing example of modem English 
fiction . . . a book worth reading. ... Its personages are many and well 

contrasted, and all reasonably human and interesting.” — New York Times. 

“In this pretty, pathetic story Mr. Haggard has lost none of his true art. . . . 
In every mspect ‘ Joan Haste’ contains masterly literary work of which Mr. Haggard 
has been deemed incapable^ by some of his former critics. Certainly no one will call 
his latest book weak or uninteresting, while thousands who enjoy a well-told story of 
tragic, but true love, will pronounce ‘Joan Haste’ a better piece of work than Mr. 
Haggard’s stories of adventure.” — Boston Advertiser. 

“ This story is full of startling incidents. It is intensely interesting.” 

—Cleveland Gazette. 

“ The plot thickens with the growth of the story, which is one of uncommon interest 
and pathos. The book has the advantage of the original illustrations.” 

— Cleveland World. 

‘“Joan Haste’ is really a good deal more than the ordinary novel of English 
country life. It is the best thing Haggard has done. There is some character sketch- 
ing in it that is equal to anything of this kind we have had recently.” 

— Courier, Lincoln, Neb. 

“ In this unvyonted field he has done well. ‘Joan Haste ’ is so far ahead of his for- 
mer works that it will surprise even those who have had most confidence in his ability. 

T® those who read Thomas Hardy’s ‘Tess of the D’Urbervilles ’ the atmosphere 
and incidents of ‘Joan Haste ’ will seem familiar. It is written along much the same 
lines, and in this particular it might be accused of a lack of originality; but Haggard 
harcome dangerously close to beating Hardy in his own field. Hardy’s coarseness is 
missing, but Hardy’s power is excelled.” — Munsey’s Magazine. 


LONGMANS, GEEEN, & 00.. 91-93 EITTH AVENUE, NEW YOEK. 


SWALLOW. 

A STORY OF THE GREAT TREK. 

By H. rider haggard, 

AUTHOR OF “ SHE,’' “KING SOLOMON’S MINES,” “ JOAN HASTE,” “ THE WIZARD,” ETC., ETC. 


With 12 fulhpage Illustrations. Crown 8vo, Cloth, 
Ornamental, $1.50 

“ The hand of the author of ‘ She ’ has not lost its cunningf. Indeed, we think it 
will be the verdict of most readers of ‘Swallow ’ that, great as Conan Doyle and 
Stanley Weyman are in the field of romance, in the art of sheer, unadulterated story- 
telling, Rider Haggard is the master of them all. ‘Swallow ’is an African story, a 
tale of the Boers and Kaffirs and Zulus, and it grips the attention of the reader from 
the very beginning and holds it steadily to the end. The tale is told by an old Boer 
woman, ‘the Vrouw Botmar,’ and it is a masterpiece of narration. . . . The finest 
portrait of all is that of the little Kaffir witch doctoress, Sihamba, who will live in the 
reader’s memory long after he has closed the book, and who is a worthy companion of 
the great Umslopogaas himself. Altogether ‘ Swallow ’ is a remarkable romance.” 

— Charleston News. 

“ It is a slashing, dashing , . . romance of Boers and Kaffirs in South Africa that 
Rider Haggard has given his admirers under the title, ‘ Swallow.’ The title is the Kaffir 
name for the charming Boer maiden, Suzanne Botmar. . . ‘Swallow’ is one of 

those utterly impossible and yet altogether engrossing tales that Rider Haggard knows 
80 well how to weave. He is always at best among the kloofs and kopjes of South 
Africa, and his many admirers will be delighted to know that he has returned to the 
field of his early successes.”— Chicago Tribune. 

“The Englishman’s long pursuit of his bride ; the manner in which she escaped 
from Swart Piet only to encounter as great perils in her wanderings, and how she 
dwelt among savages for two years, with Sihamba, the little witch doctoress and ruler 
of the Tribe of the Mountains, gives Mr. Haggard ample opportunity to display his 
ingenuity as a plot-maker, and illustrates his wonderful powers of dramatic narration. 
The story is crowded with incident leading up to the tragic encounter on the cliff 
between Ralph and Swart Piet and the torture and death of Sihamba. Lovers of the 
wild and adventurous, subtly touched with the supernatural, will find ‘Swallow’ 
juite to their liking.” —Detroit Free Press. 

“ A thrilling tale, brimming over with adventure, and full of the savage loves and 
hates and fightings of uncivilized peoples. . . . In such stories of wild adventure 

Rider Haggard has no equal, and ‘ Swallow ’ will be read with the unflagging interest 
we have given to the author's other romances.” — Picayune, New Orleans, La. 

“ It is justly considered one of the very best of this author’s productions. ... It 
is unqucbtiunably a very entertaining story of Boer life.” — Hartford Post. 

“ A story, which once begun, must be read to the end.” — New York Tribune. 

“ The interest grows as one goes on, and at the close it is at least an open question 
whether he has ever done a better piece of work. ... It may safely be said that 
few who begin the story will fail to read on with growing interest to the end, and that 
most will part from the characters with genuine regret.” — Hartford Times. 

“ One of the things Rider Haggard can always contrive to do is to tell a thrilling 
tale, to keep his readers trembling on the verge of discovery or torn with anxiety until 
the very last line of the book. His happy hunting-ground is South Africa, and there is 
located ‘ Swallow,’ than which few of his romances have been better reading. We 
find it preferable, for our own part, to such an extravaganza as ‘She,’ since it deals 
with people in whom it is possible to take a more definite interest than in savages oi 
magicians. . . . A thrilling and unusual story.” — Milwaukee Sentinel. 

“ Once more the African wizard has waved his enchanted wand and conjured out 
of the mysterious Dark Continent another fascinating romance. . . . It is ques- 
tionable if the author has ever produced a story in all respects better than this.” 

— Philadelphia Press. 


LOHOMANS, GREEN, & 00., 91-93 PIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK. 


LYSBETH 

A TALE OF THE DUTCH 

By H. rider haggard 

AUTHOR OF “she,” “KING SOLOMON’S MINES,” “SWALLOW,” ETC., ETC. 

With* 26 Full-pagre Illustrations. Crown 8vo, Cloth, 
Ornamental, $1.50 


“ Mr. Rider Haggard at his very best. To give an adequate idea of the story 
of ' Lysbeth ’ we should require many columns for the simple catalogue of the 
adventures and perils and fights and escapes which make up one of the most 
vigorous and exciting tales ever written.” — The Bookman, London. 

“It is a thrilling tale of adventure and sacrifice, with a substantial love 
element and strong side lights upon the history of the people of the Netherlands 
during the period in which the masterly drawn characters move. It is told in a 
captivating style with never-flagging interest, and is by all odds the best story, 
as it will probably be the most popular, that this author has written.” 

—North American, Philadelphia. 

“‘Lysbeth ‘is one of the most complete romances that have been written ; 
. . . it is one of the most interesting . . . stories of the Spanish misrule 

in the Netherlands. It includes all the elements for romantic narrative — 
affection, peril, bravery and villainy, and each delineated with impressiveness 
that moves the reader to alternate emotions of admiration and detestation.” 

—Boston Courier. 

“ . . . May be safely called the best story of this popular writer of 
adventures. His vivid and audacious style of picturing thrilling and improb- 
able adventures is given full play. The historical background adds much to 
the interest of the story if one is not interested merely in adventures. . . . 

The illustrations of the book are numerous and excellent. ” 

— Boston Transcript. 

“ . . . A novel which is well worth reading. Haggard is master of an 
inimitable style. He is a wonderful painter of battles, and the description of 
the flight with Brant’s jewels down the canal and out to sea is one of the best 
descriptions of a fight ever written. ‘ Lysbeth ’ is a novel which sustains the 
interest from the first to the last chapter.” — San Francisco Bulletin. 

“ Here is a really strong piece of work, and one in which Rider Haggard 
appears on an entirely new ground. . . . The historical background is 

sufficient in itself to make a story of entrancing interest, and the two or three 
romances which have been interwoven with it make the book one of the most 
notable even among the many excellent works of recent historical fiction. The 
Spanish and the Dutch types are both true to life, and the historical setting is 
remarkably accurate and true. Rider Haggard will indeed win more lasting 
renown by his work on ‘ Lysbeth ’ than by his wierd tales which were the talk of 
a day and then forgotten.” — Living Church. 


LONGMAHS, GEEEN, & 00., 91-93 rifTH AVMDE, NEW YOEK. 


THE CHEVALIER D’AURIAC, 

A ROMANCE. 

By S. LEVETT YEATS. 

AUTHOR OF “the HONOUR OF SAVELLI,” ETC, ETC. 

1 2mo, cloth, ornamental, $1.25. 


** The story is full of action, it is alive from cover to cover, and is so compact with thrill* 
ing adventure that there is no room for a dull page. The chevalier tells his own story, but 
he is the most charming of egoists. He wins our sympathies from the outset by his boyish 
naivete, his downright manliness and bravery. . . . Not only has Mr. Yeats written an 

excellent tale of adventure, but he has shown a close study of character which does not bor- 
row merely from the trappings of historical actors, but which denotes a keen knowledge of 
human nature, and a shrewd insight into the workings of human motives. . . . The 
fashion of the period is kept well in mind, the style of writing has just that touch of old* 
fashioned formality which serves to veil the past from the present, and to throw the lights 
and shadows into a harmony of tone. . . . The work has literary quality of a genuine 

sort in it, which raises it above a numerous host of its fellows in kind.*^* 

— Bookman, New York. 


“ . . . A story of Huguenot days, brim full of action that takes shape in plots, sud- 

den surprises, fierce encounters, and cunning intrigues. The author is so saturated with the 
times of which he writes that the story is realism itself. . . . The story is brilliant and 

thrilling, and whoever sits down to give it attention will reach the last page with regret.” 

— Globe, Boston, 


“ . . . A tale of more than usual interest and of genuine literary merit. . , . 

The characters and scenes in a sense seem far removed, yet they live in our hearts and seem 
contemporaneous through the skill and philosophic treatment of the author. Those men and 
women seem akin to us ; they are flesh and blood, and are impelled by human motives as we 
are. One cannot follow the fortunes of this hero without feeling refreshed and benefited.” 

— Globe-Democrat, St. Louis. 


“A book that may be recommended to all those who appreciate a good, hearty, rollicking 
story of adventure, with lots of fierce fighting and a proper proportion of love-making. . . , 

There is in his novel no more history than is necessary, and no tedious detail ; it is a story 
inspired by, but not slavishly following, history. . . . The book is full of incident, and 

from the first chapter to the last the action never flags. ... In the Chevalier the author 
has conceived a sympathetic character, for d’ Auriac is more human and less of a puppet than 
most heroes of historical novels, and consequently there are few readers who will not find en- 
joyment in the story of his thrilling adventures. . . . This book should be read by all 

who love a good story of adventures. There is not a dull page in it.” — New York Sun. 

“A capital story of the Dumas-Weyman order. . . . The first chapters bring one 

right into the thick of the story, and from thence on the interest is unflagging. The Cheva- 
lier himself is an admirably studied character, whose straightforwardness and simplicity, 
bravery, and impulsive and reckless chivalry, win the reader’s sympathy. D’Auriac has 
something of the intense vitality of Dumas’s heroes, and the delightful improbabilities through 
which he passes so invincibly have a certain human quality which renders them akin to out 
day. Mr. Levett Yeats has done better in this book than m anything else he has written.” 

— Picayune, New Orleans. 

“The interest in the story does not lag for an instant; all is life and action. The pict- 
uresque historical setting is admirably painted, and the characters are skilfully drawn, espe- 
cially that of the king, a true monarch, a brave soldier, and a gentleman. The Chevalier is 
the typical hero of romance, fearing nothing save a stain on his honor, and with such a hero 
there can not but be vigor and excitement in every page of the story.” 

— Mail and Express, New York. 

“ As a story of adventure, pure and simple, after the type originally seen in Dumas’s 
‘Three Musketeers,’ the book is well worthy of high praise.” — Outlook, New York. 

“We find all the fascination of mediaeval France, which have made Mr. Weyman’s stories 
such general favorites. . . . We do not see how any intelligent reader can take it up 

without keen enjoyment.” — Living Church, Chicago. 


LONGMAUS, GEEEN, & 00., 91-93 IITTH AYE., NEW TOEK, 


THE HEART OF DENISE 

AND OTHER TALES. 

By S. LEVETT-YEATS. 

AUTHOR OF “the CHEVALIER d'aURIAC,” “ THE HONOUR OF SAVELLi/' ETC. 


With Frontispiece. Crown 8vo, cloth, ornamental, $1.2 5. 


The author of the fascinating and brilliant story of ‘The Chevalier d’Auriac’ 
knows the main roads and bypaths of the sixteenth century well, and in his latest 
essay in romance he catches the spirit of the times he portrays. With a few sugges- 
tive touches a brilliant, somewhat self-willed beauty of the court is sketched in Denise, 
whose flirtations, innocent enough upon her part, with the young but unscrupulous 
Marquis de Clermont, lead to a peremptory command on the part of the King for her 
marriage, at three hours’ notice, to Blaise de Lorgnac. . . . 

The story which gives the title to the book occupies something over a third of the 
volume. The remainder is a collection of eight short stories, most of which are some- 
what melodramatic in character, but all are brilliantly told.” 

— Chicago Tribune. 

“A good romantic story, graphically told.” 

— New York World. 

“A brief, rapid story of those picturesque days when the Flying Squadron fluttered 
its silken sails at the gay French court of which Catherine de Medici was the ruling 
spirit — such is ‘ The Heart of Denise,’ which may be praised as more in the style of 
‘The House of the Wolf’ or ‘A Gentleman of France ’ than anything Mr. Weyman is 
writing nowadays.” — Sentinel, Milwaukee, Wis. 

‘‘A capital love story. . . . It is a pleasant story most pleasantly told. The 
other stories in the book are of equal interest ; they are told with admirable skill and 
most excellent art.” — Saturday Evening Gazette, Boston. 

‘‘ We find more varieties of talent than we remember in his earlier novels. * The 
Chevalier d’Auriac ’ and ‘The Honour of Savelli,’ ‘ The Heart of Denise ’ and ‘ The 
Captain Moratti’s Last Affair ’ resemble these in the romantic use of the historical 
material of which they are composed ; the other seven display a wider range of in- 
vention in different directions. Taken as a whole, the stories here are considerably 
above the average stories of better-known writers than Mr. Yeats.” 

— Mail and Express. 

“All of them are bright, crisp and taking — generally weird and fanciful, but told 
with an easy and fluent swing which imparts a pleasant flavor to the most inconse- 
quential of their details.” — San Francisco Chronicle. 

“There are many well-told adventures .... with a defined originality and 
manner.” — Baltimore Sun. 

“ Mr. Yeats writes well ; in his Indian tales there is distinct touch of cleverness. 
The story that gives its name to the book is Weyman all over. There is a charming, 
if shrewish, heroine, a misjudged hero, a courtly villain, and the scene is laid in the 
France of the Medicis.” — Journal, Providence, R. I. 

“ The story of Denise is interesting and at times highly dramatic.” 

— St. Louis Republic. 

“ He has romance and pretty turn for dramatic episodes, . . . * The Captain 
Moratti’s Last Affair ’ is a delightful tale of Southern villainy, and drama, and the 
longest story in the book, ‘The Heart of Denise, ’ justifies its length by its romantic 
and thrilling character. The Indian tales show that while Mr. Yeats is far below Mr. 
Kipling in the treatment of the material to be found among the natives, he is at any 
rate clever and readable. His vignette of landscape are drawn with special grace,” 

— N. Y. Tribune. 


LONGMANS, GEEEN, & 00., 91-93 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW TOEN 


PARSON KELLY 

A NEW HISTORICAL NOVEL 

By a. E. W. mason 

A-DTHOR OF “THE COURTSHIP OF MORRICE BUCKLER^’ 

AND 

ANDREW LANG 


With Frontispiece^, Crown 8vo, Cloth, Price, $1.50 


** * Parson Kelly ’ is a beguiling variation on the old delightful theme. . . . 

!Vir. Lang has brought to the composition of this novel so much historical lore, 
so much insight into the Jacobite comedy, so much sympathy for the actors in it, 
both major and obscure, that the book is alive with true romance. The Prince 
scarcely appears, yet the air of plot and counterplot, of brave deeds and shabby 
intrigue, in which he and his house are enveloped, breathes from every page. 
Historical knowledge and imaginative power are in ‘ Parson Kelly ’ blended into 
a remarkably compact and plausible unit.” — New York Tribune. 

“ We conscientiously refrain from giving the prospective reader any foretaste 
of the exceeding charm of this delightful volume. That charm is continuous and 
in crescendo from the initial to the final page, and it is impossible to conceive 
that the most exacting should have a shadow of disappointment with anything 
about the book either in its personnel, which is very beautiful, or in its literary 
material, which is exceptionally fascinating. The only ground of regret is that 
it comes to an end. It should easily rank with the most popular publications of 
the year.” — Home Journal, New York. 

“This is an extremely clever novel; witty, humorous, animated and pictu- 
resque, and so full of dramatic situations that it would make a fine play. . . . 

The characterization is strong, the narrative brisk, and in style and incident the 
novel possesses highly attractive qualities. A very pretty love-story runs 
through the book.” — Chronicle-Telegram, Pittsburg. 

“ The acute and rollicking Parson, with his coterie of friends, his love of ad- 
venture, his chivalry, is the most entertaining of intriguers. . . .We have a 

nearer acquaintance with the learned and eccentric Lady Mary Wortley Mon- 
tagu. We are hurried through the balls and routs of the early part of the eigh- 
teenth century, and recognize Mr. Lang’s thorough study of the times, and Mr. 
Mason’s dramatic faculty of plot construction.” — Sun, Baltimore, Md. 

“ Nick Wogan is such an Irishman as Lever loved to draw, a soldier of fort- 
une, with a ready tongue and a ready sword. . . . The reader falls in love 

with him at once, and looks for his name at the beginning of each chapter, sure 
that no page can be dull upon which the name stands. But, in truth, ‘ dull ’ is 
not a word to be mentioned in connection with any portion of the book whose wit 
and charming style revives memories of the old masters of fiction. ‘ Parson 
Kelly ’ should have a great success if success is measured by real merit.” 

— New Orleans Times-Democrat. 

“ This novel holds one’s attention closely by reason of the skill with which we 
are constantly kept in the presence of some unsolved mystery. The scene is 
England in the time of George I., and the principal characters are conspirators 
in the Jacobite cause trying to place the Pretender on the throne. ... A 
fascinating character in the book is Nick Wogan, the friend of Kelly, the con- 
fident of his love-affairs and his avenger on Scrope. The plot thus barely out- 
lined is exceedingly intricate and ingenious. . . . The style is attractive, 

and displays, particularly, perhaps, in the dialogues, piquancies such as one 
often meets with from the pen of Mr. Lang.” 

— New York Commercial Advertiser. 


LONGMANS, GEEEN, & 00., 91-93 EIFTH AVE., NEW YOEK. 


S AVROLA 

A TALE OF THE REVOLUTION IN LAURANIA 

By WINSTON SPENCER CHURCHILL 

A.UTHOR OF “THE RIVER WAR: AN ACCOUNT OF THE RECONQUER!!: OF 
THE SOUDAN,” “ THE STORY OF THE MALAKAND 
FIELD FORCE, 1897,” ETC., ETC. 


Crown 8vo, 350 Pages, $1.25 


“ The tale is brief and it is briskly told The situation celebrated ons 
from which the author has had difficulty in extracting his hero and heroinfe ^tb« 
out some smirching of their skirts. But the difficulty is neatly overcome. . • 
Altogether ' Savrola ’ is a very promising story.” — New York 

Mr. Churchill is a powerful and vigorous writer, wit! a :;ieat 3i;yie and a 
dash in story-telling which shows forth in his work not less tnan iSi. bis corre^ 
spondence and his military history. It is a welcome additior. :oth4-- 2iss>* of novels 
of adventure. ” — New York World. 

“A dashing sort of a tale, set forth with a good deai o i/an. . jtbfc 
story is bright and taking, the dialogue unusually witty, withob £ iSttag forced 

—Free Press Detroit 

“ This tale of the revolt of the citizens of an imaginary repuoiic against a 
Dictator is a spirited variant of the Zenda-royalty school. ... It has a 
good plot, a love interest, of course, and all the swiftness of action that revolu- 
tionary days conjure up in the mind.” — New York Mail and Express. 

“ The story is well written in picturesque, forcible style, and will hold the in- 
terest of its readers from the first page to the last.” — Times, New York. 

“ The book is interesting, well planned and filled with action.” 

— Post, Chicago. 

“ It is a carefully written and critical biography that will appeal to all mem- 
bers of the profession.”— Argonaut, San Francisco, Cal. 

“ A story full of action, told with force and vigor.” 

—Post, Washington, D. C. 

“ The story is in the main a stirring account of warlike movements, which 
are well handled by the author . . . another important element of the story 

is the romance which threads the whole and adds charm to all. The style is 
dignified, excellent and attractive, and the interest of the story is fully sustained 
to a thrilling series of climaxes at the close. ” — Progress, Minneapolis. 

“ The story needs no factitious aids. It challenges attention by genuine 
merit. It is a clever tale, briskly told. It has strength and force and is at times 
brilliant. The action of the story takes place in an imaginary state, which is 
under the dominion of an unscrupulous dictator. The dialogue is crisp and the 
description of the revolution vivid and vigorous.” — Brooklyn Times. 

“ The narrative is distinctly unique and cleverly put together. The char- 
acters are finely pictured. . , . The interest throughout is sustained.” 

— Herald, St. Joseph, Mo. 

“ The story ... is one with plenty of ‘ go ’ and action, quite well worth 
the reading. . . . The description of the battle and overthrow of the dictator 

President shows decided strength in its portrayal of a graphic and realistic 
scene.” — The American, Philadelphia, Pa. 


LONGMANS, GREEN, & 00., 91-93 PIITH AVE., NEW YORK. 


THE DUKE 

A NOVEL 

By J. STOKER CLOUSTON 

AUTHOR OF “THE LUNATIC AT LARGE” 


Crown 8vo, $1.25 


“A book that is brimful of the richest quality of pure Celtic humor. The fic- 
titious duke gets into any number of scrapes, all of them laughable, but the real 
duke finds himself embarrassed by the immediate consequences, and is forced at 
last to reclaim his title from the Irish adventurer. . . . The book, after keep- 

ing one convulsed for two hours with mingled smiles and broad laughter, ends 
happily and up to the standard of exacting convention.” 

—Journal, Detroit, Mich. 

“ It is cleverly told and far better worth attention than nine out of ten of the 
serious efforts to portray human life and character.” 

— Journal, Providence, R. I. 

“ It is a well-written tale and absorbingly interesting.” 

—Picayune, New Orleans, La. 

“ One of the most attractive books of the season. The characters are well 
drawn, and there is a kind of deuce-take-it in the telling of the story that con- 
duces much to the excellence of the story.” — Courier, Boston, Mass. 

“ The situation is intensely comic . . . the upshot of the Duke of Gran- 

don’s experiment is not only genuinely droll, but has the sentimental interest 
which we suppose is indispensable in the average novel. The book might make 
a laughable play.” — New York Tribune. 

“ Mr. Clouston certainly has written along original lines in bis newest book. 

. . . Mr. Clouston’s story is interesting. It is told in a direct, forcible man- 

ner. The manners and customs of the English people of the time are pictured 
as they really were. His principal characters are real flesh and blood creatures, 
with all the envy, hatred and hero-worship that go to make the average human 
being.” — New York Press. 

“ The story is most ingenious, well told, and interesting, and the humor is 
not too strained.” — News, Indianapolis, Ind. 

“ A most entertaining story . . . the telling of the kory is so bright and 

original that the interest increases on each page, and the reader is kept in a state 
of wonderment as to how it will all end. . . . There are few novels which 

are so entertaining and no one can read it and come to the end without wishing 
that Mr. Clouston had made it a little longer. ’—San Francisco Bulletin. 

“ It is replete with humor and amusing situations.” — Chicago Post. 

“ The story is admirably told and is full of humor.” 

—San Francisco Chronicle. 

“A brisk, well told, vivacious story.”— B rooklyn Times, 

“The style is so brisk, the dialogue so crisp, and the incidents so dramatic, 
that the book contains a clever and amusing comedy ready for transfer to the 
stage. It is an amusing novel, which anyone may read with pleasure.” 

—Chronicle Telegraph, Pittsburg, Pa. 


LONGMANS, GREEN, & 00., 91-93 EIETH AVENUE, NEW YORK. 


MY LADY. OF ORANGE 


A ROMANCE OF THE NETHERLANDS IN THE DAYS OF ALVA 

By H. C. bailey 


With 8 Illustrations by G. P. Jacomb-Hood 
Crown 8vo, $1.25 


“ There is not a line of padding in the story. It moves swiftly and steadily 
from start to finish. Incident follows incident in vivid succession, but the narra- 
tive, while rapid, is never complex or incoherent. The hero is a soldier of 
sturdy pattern ; and My Lady of Orange is a woman worthy of the hairbreadth 
'scapes endured f^r her safety and happiness. The pictures by Mr. Jacomb- 
Hood are superb.” — Beacon, Boston. 

“ . . . Told with a vigorous brusqueness and force that are in keeping 

with the character of the doughty soldier of fortune as he reveals himself to be. 
There is plenty of fighting and deeds of daring. . . . The heroine, 

Mistress Gabrielle de St Trond, is a brave, winsome maid, with courage and 
wit and womanly sweetness too. . . . The story moves forward with a fine 

impetuosity and dash, and speeds briskly in the telling, as befits a tale of 
action.’’— Brooklyn Timks. 

“ Mr. Bailey has written a rattling good story of Alva and the war in the 
Netherlands. . . . Mr Bailey has caught the atmosphere of the period very 

successfully. The style of the narrative is just archaic enough without being 
pedantic, and the spirit and character of the narrator are very clearly and dra- 
matically portrayed. In this respect the novel will rank high among recent 
books of its kind.”— News and Courier, Charleston. 

" The soldier of fortune has never been more exactly and strongly delineated 
than he is in ‘ My Lady of Orange.’ It is replete with thrilling escapades, and 
every character is one of interest clearly delineated. An excellent romance 
skilfully described”— Boston Courier. 

“ We have to thank Mr. Bailey, whose name is new to us, for creating such 
a womanly heroine, for such an entertaining and faithful reproduction of 
old-time Flemish life, and for making his characters think and talk, and now 
and then swear, like hum^n men ard women and not like literary puppets.” 

— Mail and Express, New York. 

“ Here is a natural, tender, humorous, beautiful and artistic romance, told 
autobiographically by an Englishman, who was a soldier of Orange. We 
receive here graphic accounts of Holland life, and an easy, human kind of 
narrative which will interest men and women alike. The value of the tale is 
enhanced by eight full-page illustrations.’’ — Gloucester Daily Times. 


LONGMANS, GREEN, & 00., 91-93 FITTH AVENUE, NEW YORK. 




NOV 18 1901 



library of congress 




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